


Halfway to the Moon

by Laramie



Series: Halfway to the Moon [1]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-09-26 11:25:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9893984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie
Summary: It was supposed to be Thomas and Phillip's holiday, but when Phillip broke up with him Thomas decided to go to San Francisco alone.Mentions of crowbarrow and thomward.





	1. Chapter 1

It could never be said that Thomas Barrow was an adventurous man. He lived in a small town in Yorkshire, managed a small outlet of a bookshop chain, and the highlight of his day was taking his Golden Retriever, Lady, for a walk across the moors.

Thomas was, however, a romantic, and secretly derived great joy from making his partners happy. It was for this reason that he had booked a week away in sunny San Francisco for himself and his partner Phillip. Phillip's parents were rich and old-fashioned. After Phillip came out to them, they had told him that if he didn't give up such ridiculous ideas, he would be disinherited. Phillip had carried on dating men in secret, but it was a strain on his well-being, and Thomas felt that valentine's week away from them in an exceptionally gay-friendly city could only be a good thing.

Unfortunately, all had not proceeded according to plan. The very day that Thomas had planned to tell Phillip about the trip, Phillip had broken up with him. It wouldn't have been so bad if Phillip had not used the phrase _it's just not worth it_ , but he had, and Thomas had seen red for a while and he... well, he had threatened to show Phillip's parents evidence of the two of them sexting and chatting. He had never entirely empathised with Phillip's struggle - having been thrown out by his own parents when he doggedly refused to pretend to be straight, part of him felt that Phillip should stand his ground and if his parents didn't like it, so be it.

It turned out, Phillip knew him rather too well. Before dumping Thomas, he had got into Thomas's phone and deleted anything that looked the slightest bit un-platonic between them. Which left Thomas single, lonely, without any reminder of the good times and with a spare ticket to San Francisco that none of his friends could afford with only two weeks notice. Thomas decided to go by himself, not wanting to waste the holiday now he had paid for it and thinking he might tour the gay bars for a few rebound shags.

Thomas arrived in the afternoon and, after checking into his hotel, headed out to the Castro district where all the gay folk hung out. He spent much of the first three days drinking, dancing, sleeping late and having sex. He fucked a twink, got fucked by an extremely muscular trans guy, and had oral sex in a club's bathroom only to immediately go back to the dancefloor and pull someone else. For someone used to being The Only Gay In The Village, it was a rather overwhelming experience.

On his third morning in San Francisco, Thomas awoke at 11:30 and decided it was time to see some of the sights. Casual sex was all well and good, but he ought to see a bit of the city he was in, apart from just clubs and other men's bedrooms. After a bit of googling, courtesy of the hotel's free wifi, he concluded that the most efficient and most hangover-friendly way to do this was to get on a tour bus. It happened that there was a company selling tickets from pretty much opposite Thomas's hotel, so it seemed an obvious choice to buy a three-day pass from them. The leaflet proclaimed: "hop on - hop off! Live tour guides!"

The first stop on the city tour route was just around the corner, so Thomas ambled over, vaping contentedly, and saw that a bus was already waiting there. He showed his ticket to the driver and climbed aboard, going up the stairs to the open top deck despite the drizzle that had started. He sat on the left hand side at the very front of the bus, so that he would get a good view when the tour started.

Over the next few minutes, a handful of other people got on the bus, but all of them stayed down below in the dry.

"Morning everyone, my name's Jimmy, I'll be your tour guide," Thomas heard from the bottom deck. He had been distracted by looking around at the buildings, and had not noticed the tour guide arriving. "Where are you from?" the male, American-accented voice continued. It was rather a nice voice.

The reply was too quiet for Thomas to catch, so he just idly listened to Jimmy-the-tour-guide's side of the conversation until he heard footsteps on the bus stairs behind him.

"Aha!" said Jimmy. "Someone's braving the weather, then."

Thomas turned in his seat to see Jimmy's truly _dazzling_ smile. _Fuck_ , he thought faintly.

"I bet you're Australian," Jimmy went on, brushing a stray lock of his unruly golden hair out of his face. "Yeah? Or from New Zealand? When there's someone up here in the rain, they're usually from one of those places."

"Sorry, neither," Thomas replied, managing to recover his equilibrium in the face of extreme handsomeness. "Yorkshire, actually."

"England?"

"Yeah," Thomas confirmed. "So this is practically summer for me. At least it's warm."

Jimmy laughed easily. "Glad we're not disappointing for you. We don't get much rain here - it'll probably clear up in a few minutes."

"Great," was all Thomas managed to say before the bus's engine started and Jimmy picked up his microphone to begin the tour.

"We're in the tourist area now," Jimmy said after a brief introductory spiel. Thomas settled back to listen and look around as Jimmy narrated from the top of the stairs a few seats behind. "Lots of places to buy souvenirs; if you want to get ripped off, that is. And here's our first stop - anyone for Pier 39 and the sea lions? Just give the driver a shout." The bus continued on without stopping. "No one? Man, I hope this means you've already seen 'em 'cause you can't come to San Francisco without seeing the sea lions. Alright, we'll move on now, away from overly expensive Fisherman's Wharf. You've saved yourselves 40% just by leaving, congratulations."

Thomas snorted, craning his head to glimpse the sea between the piers. Traffic trundled past in both directions, a mix of cars, buses, trams and trolley buses. There was a lot of choice of public transport here, even more so when Jimmy pointed out the cable car lines.

"And here's Golden Gate Park. When they were first setting up in San Fran, they asked a Scotsman, James Stanley, to design the park. He came all the way over, ran his fingers through the soil, and said 'you'll never grow anything here.' And he went straight home. So next they asked another Scotsman, John McClaren. John McClaren came all the way over, ran his fingers through the soil, and decided he would not be defeated. Now, the soil we have here is very sandy, not very fertile. John McClaren mixed it with something there was an abundance of in San Francisco at the time - horse manure, from all those horse-drawn vehicles, and in the process basically invented potting soil."

The bus wound through the park as Jimmy spoke, passing green lawns and plenty of trees and other plants. Thomas had noticed that Jimmy seemed to value making the tourists laugh more than he valued bombarding them with facts, but given the state Thomas was in he was perfectly fine with that.

"You'll notice you can't see many statues in the park. That's because John McClaren HATED statues. He just couldn't make them grow! The council kept giving him statues to put up, which he eventually did, but he planted trees on FOUR sides of them."

Thomas couldn't help but laugh. That sounded just like something he himself might do.

"There is one exception - one statue of fellow Scotsman Robbie Burns, who McClaren must have been a fan of because he has trees planted on only THREE sides."

There was plenty more to hear about John McClaren, who was something of a character to say the least. The well-rehearsed narration was so entertaining that it stopped Thomas from getting too distracted by Jimmy's appearance, allowing him to keep his attention on the landmarks and history being described.

Despite it being a hop on, hop off tour, Thomas kept his seat all the way through until they finally looped around to the stop they had departed from.

On his way out, Thomas dropped a dollar in the tip bucket. "John McClaren's my favourite person now," he told Jimmy, who seemed to be getting off the bus too.

"He's kind of amazing," Jimmy agreed. "I'm glad I made you like him."

They stepped off the bus and paused briefly at the door. A dozen questions flitted through Thomas's mind - _Are you finished now? D'you fancy getting a drink with me? Are you single? Is it stereotypical to ask an American for coffee?_ But the man was gorgeous and how the hell was Thomas any different to the hundreds of other tourists Jimmy would see today? He was probably straight, anyway.

The hesitation was only a second long, before Thomas said: "See you, then."

"See you," Jimmy echoed.

He probably wouldn't, though. Thomas was only here for a few more days.

After the city tour, Thomas went for a walk to Pier 39, where he bought a late lunch in the form of a dozen Dinky Donuts and an orange juice. He wondered idly what Phillip would have said to that - Phillip liked to stay in shape, and had often expressed dismay at Thomas's rarely-indulged sweet tooth.

To his own surprise, Thomas realised that he was not, in fact, missing Phillip very much. He had liked Phillip a lot, but it was nice to sit on a wooden bench by himself and not have to worry about what Phillip might say about his eating habits or whether someone who would spread the word to Phillip's parents might see them together. Thomas Barrow was not meant to hide himself away.

The sea lions were a pleasant surprise, too. Thomas had expected to see perhaps one or two, if he stayed there long enough. Instead, he found himself looking at nearly a hundred fat little bodies laid out on wooden jetties. A handful glided effortlessly between the platforms, giving their honking cries, while other tourists watched from the pier's walkway, gasping in delight and taking photographs. Thomas took a picture for a young Japanese couple, who put their arms around each other and beamed at the camera. They looked so in love. Thomas passed the camera back and couldn't quite meet their eyes as they thanked him.

After touring the shops for a little while, Thomas returned to his hotel room for a quiet read of his book and plenty of fluids to banish his lingering headache. The great thing about America was that hotel rooms always had a coffee machine. Thomas was a bit of a snob about coffee. Teabags he selected by the criteria of whatever was cheapest - as long as it was strong and milky, he wasn't fussed. Coffee, however, had to be proper beans, freshly ground. The hotel only provided coffee pods, but that was close enough. There was a sliding door in his room letting him out to a small courtyard area, which was useful when he wanted to nip out for a vape.

There was a night tour of the city setting off at 6pm which had interested Thomas, so he left the hotel in plenty of time to catch the bus. It was just beginning to get dark as he crossed the street to the stop, and the lights of the city were coming to life. Back at Thomas's home, it was much less bright. It was a fairly rural area with few sources of illumination, and the old-style sodium streetlights in the town had not yet been replaced with white lights, so Thomas thought of nighttime as a low orange glow. Here in a modern city, one could barely tell the difference between night and day.

The tour bus arrived and a short queue formed. A cute guy walked past just as Thomas reached the front, so he was briefly distracted as he held out his ticket. When he looked up, he realised that Jimmy, the tour guide from the earlier trip, was standing in front of him.

Unconsciously, Thomas smiled. "Hey." He wondered if Jimmy would remember him.

"Hey again," Jimmy replied with a smile of his own, effectively answering Thomas's unspoken question. The smile was probably just politeness, though. "What was your name again?"

Thomas had not actually told him in the first place. "Thomas," he said.

"Hey, Thomas," Jimmy replied, still smiling. "It's all dry up top for you."

"Great." Thomas lingered for a moment, but Jimmy was waving the next few people onto the bus, so he had to move out of the way. He went back to the same seat as before - at the front, left-hand side. He felt... _glittery_. His fingers were jumping, his hands were restless and his arms didn't seem to know what to do with themselves. He felt a bit silly, being so pleased simply that Jimmy had _remembered_ him.

But that didn't stop him from glancing repeatedly over his shoulder when the tour began, catching Jimmy's eye and chuckling at his jokes. Sometimes, he could almost pretend that Jimmy was talking just to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All this is based on my recent holiday to San Francisco. I met up with duoloopo there, and when I mentioned that I had happened to meet the same tour guide on three different tours plus spotting him in a pub she decided it had to be turned into a thommy fic. Happily, my muse agreed. All tour guide facts nicked from the several different tour guides I saw there (what can I say, my dad loves a tour bus). The only thing I made up was the name James Stanley, who is a real person but I can't remember his name.
> 
> Comments would be greatly appreciated :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot chocolates, dogs and bridges.

The tour bus route took them over the Bay Bridge, a long and elegant silvery structure. Thomas turned in his seat to see the lights of the city behind him, twinkling in the night and reflected in the water below.

"We'll stop here for five minutes," Jimmy said over the microphone once they had reached the other side. "It's a great spot for taking photographs of the Bridge and the city, and if anyone's interested, the café just there does the best hot chocolate in San Francisco. Anyone for hot chocolate? Or coffee?"

A couple of people expressed interest in coffee, then Jimmy looked over at Thomas directly. "Thomas? Hot drink?"

 _Hot date_. "Wouldn't say no to a hot chocolate," Thomas replied.

"Great! Give me a minute, everyone, and I'll go and fetch them." Jimmy hurried down the steps.

Thomas stood and went to the other side of the bus to watch Jimmy walk along the strip of thirsty grass at the side of the road, towards a very small building. Jimmy had a strange gait, perhaps best described as a slightly bow-legged strut. A swagger, almost.

When Jimmy disappeared into the tiny café, Thomas took a couple of snaps of the bridge on his phone, thinking that he might send one to Phyllis when he got back to the hotel and had wifi. Then he sat back in his chair, and resisted the urge to look round when he heard Jimmy come back, handing out drinks and taking payment.

Thomas felt a nudge from a cardboard drinks tray. He looked up at Jimmy as he took his cup of hot chocolate and paid Jimmy back.

"Best hot chocolate in San Francisco," Jimmy said again, this time in a quieter, rumbly voice that sounded quite unlike his over-rehearsed tour guide voice. He dropped into the seat across the aisle from Thomas, taking the final cardboard cup from the tray and leaning the tray against the front wall of the bus. He held his cup out and they toasted jokingly.

" _Mmm_." Thomas practically moaned as he took his first sip through the plastic lid. The hot chocolate was rich and creamy and sweet. "God, that's good." He looked up.

Jimmy was watching him with a smile, slowly licking warm hot chocolate from his bottom lip.

Thomas watched his mouth, plump pink lips stealing all his attention. Then he met Jimmy's eyes and looked quickly away again, searching for something to say to smooth over the moment. "So, um, have you been doing this long?" He kept his eyes on his hands, which were clutching the hot cup and fiddling with its cardboard sleeve.

"Two years," Jimmy replied. "I worked in a bar for a while, that was okay - nice and lively - but I was always working when I wanted to go out with people. At least doing this I get a social life - makes it harder to find time to surf, though."

Thomas imagined Jimmy on the sand with a surfboard under his arm, in nothing but board shorts. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt now, which revealed his well-toned arms and calves. He must be a sight to behold under all his clothes, or out on his board, flying with the waves.

"I probably don't sound very ambitious," Jimmy said with a self-deprecating laugh, and Thomas realised that he had left too long a silence. "It's just that I've never thought of my job as the most important thing. I want to travel."

"I didn't mean to sound disapproving," Thomas assured him, choosing his words carefully and still feeling that he was somehow getting it wrong. "I was just..." _distracted by how hot you are._ "Thinking about what you said."

"What do you do?" Jimmy asked, and Thomas told him, hoping that Jimmy wouldn't find his life small and uninteresting in contrast to life in a big city. On the contrary, Jimmy's face lit up as Thomas described his walks on the moors with Lady. "Sounds amazing," he said, looking at Thomas with big, shining eyes. "All that open space. And I always wanted a dog."

"I've always been around dogs. You never had one growing up?"

Jimmy shook his head. "Mum... had breathing problems," he explained, sounding strangely distant. "We had to be careful about dust and animal hair." He tapped his middle finger against his cup, shot a sidelong glance at Thomas. "She died a few years ago. Wasn't long after dad got killed in Afghanistan."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Thomas said honestly, though a small part of him was proud that Jimmy had confided in him. He was sure that Jimmy did not often talk like this with passengers.

They sipped their delicious drinks in unison.

"So do you have a..." Thomas couldn't quite bring himself to say 'girlfriend or boyfriend'. "Partner?"

"Only Jack the driver," Jimmy responded with a wink. It took Thomas a moment to realise that Jimmy meant it like a business partnership. Jimmy waited for his laugh before adding: "Nah, just me. Got a roommate that drives me up the wall but that's it... What about you?"

"Ah, no... Single." He was caught by Jimmy's stare in the disparate light.

_Are you straight?_

_Are you gay?_

_Have you ever been with a man?_

"I'm off, Jimmy!" the driver shouted from downstairs, and the engine hummed into life.

Jimmy curved his mouth on one side, looking down as he swirled the last quarter-cup of hot chocolate in his cup. "I'd better..." He trailed off, tipping his head to indicate the passengers behind. He stood up, drained his cup, and went to do a quick head-count to make sure they hadn't left anyone behind.

"Right, so we came over here on the top deck of the bridge and we'll be returning on the bottom deck," Jimmy announced to all the passengers. "And just so you know, we're all going to be part of making some great art as we cross the bridge. You can't see it until you're on the other side because the council thought it would be so beautiful and amazing that drivers would get distracted staring at it and cause accidents. But we'll stop and give you a good look at it once we're back in San Fran."

Thomas stretched out his legs and tried not to look back too often.

They paused again once they were back among the piers of San Francisco to view the spectacle. Each of the many vertical suspension cables were fitted with a long string of lights, which shimmered and glimmered in ever-changing patterns.

"It's based on an algorithm which changes the traffic on the bridge into these patterns," Jimmy said, almost dreamily. He looked fonder of this view than anything he had pointed out thus far. "It was only supposed to be temporary but the city liked it so much, they decided to keep it."

Jimmy was standing just a few rows behind Thomas, close enough that when Thomas glanced round, he could see the lights reflecting in Jimmy's eyes.

The bridge patterns were mesmerising. "That looks like a fish," Thomas said, as a darker section of the bridge was interrupted by what Thomas assumed was a single car crossing.

Jimmy smiled without looking around. "I always think that."

A little thrill buzzed through Thomas at the remark. He liked the idea of them being similar; he had thought from the beginning that they seemed like kindred spirits, so anything that happened to support that made him more eager to know Jimmy better.

Thomas would have been happy to stay in that moment a lot longer, but Jack the driver soon moved them on.

Thomas didn't bother watching the piers flash by. He sat sideways for the last five minutes and watched Jimmy at work as he bantered with passengers, urged them once again to see the sea lions, and advertised some tavern tour he organised.

"I'm the only guide in the city who does this! I'll show you all the best pubs, where the locals go, so you can meet some proper San Franciscans. If anyone's interested, you can meet me at the stop right after we finish here. Open bar all night, only 70 dollars."

Regretfully, Thomas thought he'd better take a break from alcohol tonight. He longed to spend more time with Jimmy, get to know him a bit, but after three nights of heavy drinking he definitely needed a rest. He wasn't used to such things.

When he said goodbye to Jimmy, Jimmy winked at him.

It was 7:30 by this point, so Thomas was getting hungry. Shortly after he had booked this holiday, he had looked for real ale (which Americans called 'craft beer') pubs, because Phillip was a bit of an enthusiast. He had come across a place called Kennedy's, which was an Irish pub attached to an Indian restaurant. An odd combination, but an interesting one. Thomas remembered it was not far from the hotel, so he took off walking towards the city centre.

He kept thinking about those lights reflected in Jimmy's eyes, and the fact that he had lost both of his parents already. From his expression as he told Thomas, it seemed that he had been close to them.

Thomas was so distracted that he almost walked right past Kennedy's. He went inside and got a coffee and a table without any trouble. While he was sitting there waiting for his food to arrive, he saw the pub door open.

And who should enter but Jimmy.

Instinctively, Thomas tried to catch his eye, sitting taller in his seat. Jimmy was followed inside by a group of about ten people, and they all crossed the room past Thomas to what he assumed must be a private room.

 _Ask him_ , Thomas thought. _Talk to him._

Jimmy happened to glance over. Thomas's skin tingled as their eyes met. Jimmy looked like he was about to say something, then he looked back at his group. He leaned intimately closely to a young woman with waves of long, light-brown hair and said something into her ear. The girl pulled back slightly to smile at him, then put a hand on his shoulder and stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

Thomas looked down at the table, crushed. It looked very much like Jimmy was flirting. It seemed that he had found somebody he liked on a tour bus after all.

"Hey! Did I tell you about this place?"

Startled, Thomas looked up to see Jimmy standing by his table. He was as dazzling as he had been that first time Thomas had laid eyes on him.

Thomas struggled to force his mouth into speech. "Oh, no, my..." _ex-boyfriend_ \- "ex is a craft beer fan. It's great, though."

"The food's awesome," Jimmy assured him. "This is one of my favourite places."

"Is this the start of your tour?"

"Yep! I don't always take the same route or go to exactly the same places, but I almost always start here. Close to the bus stop, y'know?"

Just as Thomas began to say, "Sounds convenient," the waitress arrived with his food. He had ordered onion bahjis, a naan bread and lamb rogan josh with rice; the portions were huge (it was America, after all), and it all looked delicious.

"I'd better leave you to eat, then," Jimmy said.

 _Or you could stay and have dinner with me._ "Right. Okay." Thomas wasn't used to feeling this shy. He had just pulled four times in three days, and knew he was at least reasonably attractive - he had never had difficulty finding a hook-up, before he and Phillip became an item. But he was rotten at telling whether someone was gay and he wanted more than a hook-up with Jimmy, however difficult that might be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas dreams of seeing Jimmy again.

By the time Thomas arrived back at his hotel, he was feeling edgy. That had been his _third_ and undoubtedly _last_ chance to ask Jimmy for a date, or a phone number, or _something_ , and he had missed it.  
  
As Jimmy left, he had popped one of Thomas's onion bahjis in his mouth and winked at Thomas again. That bloody wink was sexy as hell and, every time, it made Thomas want to grab his face and kiss him like the world was ending.  
  
It was always like this. Hook-ups were easy. Crushes gripped him by the throat and never let go until they had burned him up. There was still part of him that loved Edward, the gentle guy Thomas had known in uni. Edward had also been studying English, despite his blindness, but had killed himself in the second year.  
  
Thomas made a decision that he did not completely consciously acknowledge, and lay back on his hotel bed with a tissue by his hip. Then he sat up and pulled off his shirt, before lying down again and skating his palm slowly down over his chest and stomach, and up again.  
  
He thought about the tour guide, Jimmy. Fully clothed, for the moment. Thomas wanted to see his face twisted by pleasure. He was so very handsome. Thomas began to rub over his crotch with every stroke. Jimmy's hair, long for a man, perfect for sinking his fingers into. Kissing and kissing each other, desperate, needy. Hard.  
  
Thomas wriggled out of his jeans and underpants, letting them fall to the floor. His cock rose between his bent legs and he wrapped a hand around himself, stroking firmly. He imagined Jimmy's naked back, lean and muscled, before him. He'd kiss the nape of his neck and slide a finger into his ass -  
  
Then Thomas remembered he wanted to see Jimmy's face. He moved things: Jimmy would be underneath him, bent legs parted - almost like Thomas was. Would Jimmy have done this before? Thomas didn't know if he'd rather Jimmy had or hadn't. He decided this wouldn't be Jimmy's first time with a man - he'd know what he liked. He'd have a look on his face like he thought he deserved every bit of pleasure Thomas gave him.  
  
This was a fantasy, so Thomas's fingers always had enough lube as he pressed inside Jimmy with one hand and caressed his cock with the other. Jimmy would squirm and moan for him. His _face_ , his face would be beautiful, just like... just like _that_ \- Thomas could picture it. Jimmy, on the edge of coming. Shallow breathing through parted lips and Thomas would kiss him and he'd come over Thomas's hand - but Thomas wasn't coming yet so he skipped back - Jimmy panting - and imagined Jimmy's orgasm at the same time as he came too.  
  
Thomas was still thinking about Jimmy as his breathing returned to normal. He screwed up the soiled tissue inside a couple of clean ones and lobbed it in the general direction of the bin under the desk. He missed, but couldn't be bothered to get up and put it away properly.  
  
"What's so special about you?" Thomas muttered, turning onto his side and pulling the light duvet over himself.  
  
In his dreams, Jimmy held him all night.  


* * *

  
"You are pathetic," Thomas told himself the next morning, tidying up after himself with a grimace. "One bloody day, you've known him," he chuntered as he pulled on his clothes. "One day and you think it means somethin'. He'll have forgotten you by now, don't you go thinking this is the start of something. Bloody thousands of miles away, an' all." He fell silent to assess himself in the mirror. Grey shorts that made his arse look amazing, black t-shirt with sleeves that made his arms look more muscular than they really were, cleanly shaven face. He told himself he wasn't wearing the best clothes in his bag, just in case. He was lying.  
  
Suddenly, Thomas missed his dog. He could usually look to her for comfort at moments like this. She would lick his knee and look up at him with her big, brown eyes, and Thomas would stroke her head until he felt better.  
  
Still. He was a grown-up. There were other fish in the sea - and there were much closer seas to look in, too.

He needed to stretch his legs, and wished he had thought to bring his jogging clothes. No matter: a walk down to the cable car museum proved to be just far enough to release his excess energy.

Yes, the cable car museum. Thomas had never claimed not to be a massive nerd.

Nerd as he was, it was fun to watch the enormous wheels pulling the cable cars he had seen roaming the streets. There were four cables, one for each route.

Once his curiosity had been satisfied, Thomas decided it was time to go and see the Golden Gate bridge. A glance at his map showed that if he jumped on the city tour again, he’d get a free bus right to the end of the Bridge. It was only a few blocks walk through Chinatown to pick up the bus from Portsmouth Square.

Thomas was sat at the front on the top deck, his usual spot, and waiting for the bus to set off, when he suddenly froze. There was a voice. A very particular voice, climbing the stairs.

“I notice there's no one downstairs today, now all the sun's back!”

Thomas turned in his seat and gave a mute, single wave to Jimmy as he reached the top of the stairs.

Jimmy laughed aloud. “How was the food?” he asked Thomas. “Great, right?”

Excitement swelled in Thomas's gut at the sight of Jimmy. “Yeah. Great. And lucky for you, I didn't miss that onion bahji you robbed. I can't believe how big the portions are here.”

“And what would you have done to me if you had missed it?” Jimmy asked, widening his eyes at Thomas. He made it sound like innuendo.

“Sure you want to find out?” Thomas's voice was low as he responded.

Jimmy just smirked at him.

He _was_ flirting, wasn't he? Definitely? Thomas wasn't _that_ bad at picking up signals, surely.

Suddenly looking around him, Jimmy appeared to become aware that they were not the only people on the bus for the first time. “Er, in case anyone's wondering, this gentleman's done a few of these tours and um, we saw each other in the pub yesterday when I was giving my tavern tour, which is 70 dollars for open bar all night, if anyone's interested. Get to know a bit of San Francisco, all the best bits of course.” The moment was broken as he went on with his spiel, though he acknowledged the connection between them again as they set off. “Seeing as the gentleman at the front has done this section of the tour before, I'm gonna tell you all the weirdest bits about this city, all the things a tour guide shouldn't tell you!”

He was true to his word, pointing out such things as strip clubs and telling tall tales of San Fran's inhabitants that Thomas was not sure whether to believe, including a man who had had money troubles because of paying off a city employee who was maintaining his sixteen identities.

“But he had to have sixteen identities, because he had sixteen wives!” Jimmy said. He seemed to be enjoying himself. “I’m sure one would be enough of a handful for me. He was eventually found out because they were investigating a completely separate fraud, and came across all this money going to the city employee. The lawyer thought it would be easy to get him off the charges of bigamy because, as I’m sure you know, a person can’t be compelled to testify against their spouse, so he didn’t really prepare much of a defence. But then on the first day, the judge ruled that the women didn’t all count as his wives because they weren’t legally married, and he had to watch as they went up one at a time and all testified against him. Bit of a disaster, really.”

Jimmy had given most of this tour from the front of the tour bus, travelling backwards and leaning casually against the rail at the front, and looking directly at Thomas a lot more than seemed strictly proportionate.

 _He might have a girlfriend now, though_ , Thomas reminded himself, trying to manage his expectations. But the voice was very quiet.

“We’re coming in to the Presidio now, past the Palace of Fine Arts on your right there.”

Thomas tuned out for the architectural details.

Jimmy suddenly yelped as a low-hanging tree branch whacked him on the back of the head. “Thanks for the warning, guys!” he said sarcastically as he rubbed his head, though he was clearly exaggerating for comedic effect. “Honestly, everythin’ I do for you - how ‘bout you give me a shout next time! Traitors. Jeez. That hurt worse than the tattoo.”

“You’ve got a tattoo?” Thomas said automatically, his eyes trailing down Jimmy’s perfect body, mentally undressing him. The new information about what Jimmy would look like unclothed had wiped all other thoughts from his mind. His eyes travelled up again, seeing Jimmy looking back with a challenge in his expression, almost as though daring Thomas to ask: “Where?”

A self-satisfied smirk pulled at Jimmy’s mouth. “Right here.” The fingers of his left hand stroked his left hipbone.

Thomas was transfixed by the sight, thinking of his own fingers there, thinking of dark ink on bare skin. He opened his mouth to ask what it was, but Jimmy was already walking away, and Thomas was left gaping down the aisle at his back.

He accidentally caught the eye of a fellow passenger a few rows back, an amused-looking young woman who seemed to know exactly what was going through his mind. Quickly, Thomas turned back to face the front. The understanding expression on her face made Thomas think of Sybil, Thomas’s friend who had moved to York with Tom. Tom had also once been Thomas’s friend, but they didn’t speak much these days since Tom had got himself a promotion behind Thomas’s back to go and manage the much larger bookshop in York. Sybil always got just the same look on her face when Thomas told her that he had met someone, _but I’m not expecting much, just having some fun for now, you know?_ She knew very well that he couldn’t help but hope for true love with every man he ever dated.

 _Don’t expect too much_ , Thomas told himself firmly, while Jimmy’s voice cut through his thoughts with the announcement that they had arrived at the Golden Gate Bridge stop.

Thomas’s steps dragged as he made his way down the aisle. He didn’t want to lose this opportunity. Could he ask Jimmy out? Was he brave enough for that? Was he brave enough to have a hook-up with Jimmy and have to go home in three days?

The answer came to him. “Are you doing your tavern tour tonight?”

“Yeah!” Jimmy's eyes lit up. “You want to come?”

“I'd like to see more… of the city, I mean.”

“We'll be meeting at Kennedy's again, at eight,” Jimmy said. “Just pay when you get there.”

Thomas nodded his understanding. “Okay. See you later.”

“See you later, Thomas.”

Thomas jumped off the bus with a spring in his step. Okay, so he hadn't exactly asked Jimmy out, but he was going to spend the whole evening with him later! That was a victory all of its own.

Time with Jimmy assured, Thomas attempted to turn his attention to the Golden Gate Bridge. There was yet another bus tour that crossed it, but Thomas preferred to get there by his own foot power. Once again, he wished he had thought to bring something to jog in. He didn't want to sweat too much in these clothes, because he wanted to wear them later.

The bridge was shrouded in fog, so not all of it was visible. The bright orange supports loomed out of the mist, the base and the water lost in white.

Following the signs for pedestrians, Thomas crossed the small car park he had been dropped off in and strode through a short tunnel before emerging onto the bridge itself.

The view as Thomas crossed was not the best, but the weather made the experience rather mysterious. The traffic rumbled along above him, muffled slightly. It was like being held in a bubble, where only the few metres around him really existed.

By the time Thomas reached the other side, the fog had thinned and lifted slightly. There was another car park on this side of the bridge, and if Thomas leaned over the wall he could just about make out the shape of San Francisco on the other side of the bay.

For half an hour or so, he sat on a bench, watching the traffic and the water and the boats going into the small harbour he could see far below. Then he got to his feet and crossed the bridge again in search of some lunch.

  
Six hours until he saw Jimmy.


	4. Chapter 4

When Thomas arrived at Kennedy’s at five to eight, there were a few people standing outside the door. They had the distinct look of tourists waiting for a tour guide. There was a man in his forties with a long nose and a head of dark grey hair who was peering at a map over the top of his glasses, while a woman with faded red hair - whom Thomas presumed was his wife - was saying: “What are you looking at that for, Jerry? We’re here! He said Kennedy’s, _this is Kennedy’s_ , put the bloody thing away!” Near to them, a young brunette rolled her eyes and watched the passersby on the street. For a moment, Thomas thought that she was the couple’s daughter, but they just didn’t look like a family.

Thomas approached the three people. “You doing the tavern tour?”

It was the brunette who answered, with a slight French accent. “Yes. We are just waiting for Jimmy to get here.”

First name terms. Maybe Jimmy had been flirting with her. Maybe curvy brunette women were his type - she bore at least a passing resemblance to the woman who had kissed Jimmy on the cheek the day before. Thomas pulled out his e-cigarette and breathed in, exhaling a comforting cloud of cherry-flavoured vapour.

“Are you here on holiday?” the ginger woman asked with a friendly smile.

“Yes,” Thomas said shortly. He was unwilling to share his personal life, so immediately added: “Yourselves?”

“We’re here from Salisbury,” the ginger woman replied, elbowing the man she had called Jerry affectionately. “Oh, and here’s Jimmy.”

Thomas span around and froze. He took a moment to look Jimmy over, starting with his feet, long toes and blue flip-flops. His shins showed how much sunshine they got, his legs disappearing into smart black shorts. A flash of silver was all Thomas could catch of the ring on his right hand. A snug black jacket hugged his hips and emphasised the breadth of his shoulders. And when Thomas’s eyes found Jimmy’s face, his entire world shrunk to the size of it, as he realised something he had not seen before.

Jimmy had a septum piercing.

There was a dark metal ring through the centre of his nose, which shimmered emerald in the street lights, shifting as Jimmy spoke words that floated straight past Thomas without leaving any impression of meaning. The small ball on the ring sat precisely in the centre of Jimmy’s philtrum; Thomas was willing to bet that he had adjusted it just before approaching them.

Muted movement filtered into Thomas’s awareness. The others were pulling out wallets and purses, and three more people had joined them. With numb fingers, Thomas dug in his pocket for his wallet, shuffling the notes blindy for several seconds before it registered that he would have to look away from Jimmy to count them. Clumsily, he pulled out 70 dollars and handed it over.

Thomas followed as Jimmy led the seven of them into the pub, not heading into a private room this time, but sitting in the bar area around a long table. Thomas ended up with the French woman - Manon - on his right, and Jimmy on his left. The three people who had come last - three Kiwi women in their thirties - sat on the bench seating along the wall side, while the couple from Salisbury squashed on the end of the table nearest the door, next to Manon. Jimmy took their drinks orders: everyone except two of the Kiwis went for a beer - Lauren, the third New Zealander, had looked at her companions uncertainly before diverging from their choice of gin and tonic.

Thomas watched Jimmy while the others chatted in their own groups. Jimmy was leaning over the bar while the barmaid pulled their drinks, and he was making her laugh. It looked like Jimmy was a flirt, possibly with everyone he ever met, and Thomas was left to hope that he had not been reading too much into their interactions.

His eye caught on the nose ring again when Jimmy turned around, three drinks between his hands. Thomas couldn’t believe that he had not noticed the piercing previously - he was sure that Jimmy had not worn a ring there before - but now that he had spotted it, it seemed suddenly unthinkable that Jimmy did not also have at least one snakebite. It would definitely suit him.

Jimmy returned to the bar twice more, and when he returned with his last load of drinks, he bent to whisper in Thomas’s ear as the glasses clunked onto the table.

“I’ve got one in my belly button, too.”

“I wasn’t -” Thomas began automatically, but from the way Jimmy tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, there was no point denying that he had been staring, especially when Jimmy shucked off his jacket to reveal a very tight white t-shirt. Instead, Thomas took a deep breath to calm himself, before saying: “Ever thought of getting snakebites?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Maybe when I leave this job. We’re not supposed to have ‘em. The nose is discreet enough but it might be hard to hide two holes in my face.”

“When did you have your nose done?”

Jimmy blew air through pursed lips. “Years an’ years. Think I was about twelve. I wanted to look cool. Thought dad was gonna run me through when he saw it.” He smiled reminiscently. “Anyway…” He picked up his glass and raised his voice to address the whole table. “Cheers, everyone!”

“Cheers!” they all echoed, and there was a great clinking of glasses.

“So where's everyone from? Introduce yourselves.”

“I'm Jerry, this is my wife Rita, and we're from England.”

“New Zealand,” said the woman in a blue dress, indicating herself and her two companions. “I'm Charlotte, this is Terri -” she pointed at the woman with her hair in a ponytail. “And that's Lauren.”

“ _Very_ nice to meet you all,” Jimmy grinned. “It's always nice to have beautiful women on the tour.”

Charlotte and Terri blushed and exchanged pleased glances, while Lauren looked unimpressed.

“I'm Manon,” put in the French woman, in a tone that suggested she was moving them all on before things could get any more silly. “I'm sure you can tell from my accent, I am French. The south of France. I am travelling.”

“Nice to meet you, Manon,” Jimmy responded more soberly, perhaps deciding that she would not react well to an attempt to charm her. “And finally…” he turned to Thomas.

“Thomas,” grunted Thomas grudgingly. “Yorkshire, England.”

Manon asked the Kiwis whether it snowed in New Zealand, leading to a long conversation about the climate in their various parts of the world which lasted until every glass had been drained.

It was over an hour later that Jimmy stood up to lead them to the next pub.

“You're not going to get her number, then?” Thomas asked, despite himself, as they went out into the mild evening.

Jimmy looked at him blankly, zipping up his jacket as he walked. “Whose?”

Thomas felt foolish, and regretted bringing it up. “That woman you were flirting with.”

If anything, this seemed to confuse Jimmy even more. “What woman?”

“The woman behind the bar…” Thomas explained, definitely wishing he had kept his thoughts to himself now.

Jimmy laughed aloud. “ _Gwen_? No fucking way. She's my friend, that's all. We go on road trips sometimes. Last year we flew to Canada.”

Relief flooded through Thomas, even as his worry that he was misreading Jimmy strengthened. “Oh. Sounds nice.”

“She's the only one who understands me wanting to get out of here. We both want to do bigger things with our lives, not just sleepwalk through. There's so much to see.”

“I like the bit of the world I'm living in already,” Thomas admitted.

“See, I'd love to feel like that,” Jimmy said earnestly. “But here it's just… everything I grew up with. I know it too well, I s’pose. Where did you grow up?”

“Manchester. Big city to tiny village. I've been in Yorkshire for ten years now.”

Jimmy hummed in response, before throwing out his arm to gesture them all inside another pub. “Thought you ladies might like this one,” he said to the Kiwis. “They have about a million types of gin.”

Inside, the bar was airy, with the tops of the walls painted white and the bottoms painted maroon. It seemed to be a fairly normal local pub, with perhaps a slightly greater proportion of middle-aged-and-older women than one would usually see. The eight of them clustered around the bar; on the wall behind it was a vast array of gin bottles. Jimmy leaned on the bar and greeted the barman.

The others put in their orders, most going for gin, apart from Manon and Rita, who both opted for white wine. While they were ordering, Thomas dared to put a hand on Jimmy’s forearm to catch his attention. When Jimmy looked round, he seemed much closer than Thomas had been prepared for. “What do you recommend?” Thomas asked.

Jimmy held his gaze for a long moment, as though he had a few suggestions he could make. Then he said flippantly: “I recommend havin' a drink.”

Thomas gave a surprised laugh, moving his hand off Jimmy's arm and resting it in the bar.

“I don’t know jack about gin. Pick it at random, whatever.”

“How about I choose yours and you choose mine?” Thomas suggested.

“Awesome idea,” Jimmy agreed, and they stayed at the bar reading the names on the gin bottles, teasing each other and laughing for so long that everyone else in the group found a table and sat down.

They ended up egging each other on to have Monkey 47, partly because it was called Monkey, and partly because it was 47% alcohol.

“I don't usually drink much on these tours,” Jimmy said as they watched the barman prepare their drinks with a flourish. “Don't want to end up drinking all my profits.”

“Do you make much out of it?” Thomas asked curiously.

“Sometimes.” Jimmy accepted his drink. “Some nights more than others. It basically ends up that each person pays a round, so as long as you've got more people than pubs, it's alright. And if I drink slowly, it slows everyone else down. And pick a table far enough away from the bar that it's awkward for anyone to get an in-betweener.”

Thomas stared at him with admiration. “You sneaky little bastard,” he said, realising only after he had said it that Jimmy might find that insulting.

It was clear that he took it as the compliment Thomas had intended it to be, however. He grinned, and held out his glass.

“Cheers,” they said together, and took a sip in unison.

“That's not half bad,” said Jimmy, sounding pleasantly surprised. “C’mon, I s’pose we ought to sit with the others before they go wild on the free booze.”

Thomas followed as Jimmy moved away from the bar and found a spare seat around the cluster of tables that the others had pushed together. Thomas found himself on the opposite side, squashed between Terri and Rita. Rita and her husband were happily discussing possible plans for the next day, while Manon had turned her chair and was deeply engrossed in conversation with a man at the next table who must have been at least eighty. Thomas nursed his gin and tonic, watching Charlotte flirting with Jimmy until Lauren got bored and began making small talk with Thomas. Terri also seemed relieved to have something to entertain her, and joined in.

Thomas deftly sidestepped any remotely personal questions, not having a burning desire to spill his guts to complete strangers. He ended up listening as the two of them relayed highly entertaining accounts of their most amusing drunken exploits. The conversation soon expanded to the whole table spinning tales - with the exception of Manon, who was still talking seriously to the OAP on the other table.

Eventually, when they had all drained their glasses and Jerry was starting to look hopefully towards the bar, Jimmy stood up. He was beginning to look a bit loose-limbed. “Everyone ready to move on? I think we need to find somewhere a little more lively, what do you all reckon? I know somewhere that has great live music on Saturday nights.”

A chorus of assenting murmurs answered him.

“Manon, you ready?” Jimmy asked her, the only one of the group who had not replied.

Manon turned. “I think I'm going to stay here. John and I are talking.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Fine by me.” He looked at the rest of them. “Come on then, team - onwards!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit shorter than usual! I had been aiming for 2000+ words a chapter but I felt like this chapter was getting rushed because I was worried about finishing on time so I decided to just cut off here and start writing for next week :) Hope you enjoy!

As the six remaining tourists followed their tour guide through the streets of San Francisco, Thomas felt like he was floating. He was sure that the sensation had nothing to do with alcohol. Something about Jimmy made Thomas feel cleverer, funnier, than he normally did. The two of them strode along talking over each other rapidly, as though the others were not there, laughing as if they had known each other for years. The greatest victory Thomas could imagine in life was to make Jimmy smile, which, for Thomas, he did often, leaving Thomas swimming in giddy endorphins.

Thomas wondered what he might, unwisely, do, once more alcohol was shooting through his system, but it was a far-off worry, and hardly marred the perfection of these moments. These moments where he could pretend that Jimmy was his, and he Jimmy’s.

Soon, they came across a bar, from which door spilled loud music and enthusiasm.

“ _Perfect_!” Jimmy shouted, squeezing Thomas’s bicep briefly as he led them inside.

Thomas tried not to remember that he had to go home on Tuesday.

He glanced over his shoulder as they came into the crowded bar room: Rita and Jerry, the couple from Salisbury, looked slightly apprehensive, though willing, whereas the Kiwis looked as though they had finally found where the party was at. The room was full of tables, but there were too many people to fit around them, and many were standing between. Most of the patrons were aligned towards one wall, where a three-person band were singing, playing the guitar and crashing away on an electronic drum kit, respectively.

They fought their way to the bar.

“‘ _CAUSE I GOT YOU -”_

“Double whiskey and coke!” Jimmy shouted at the barmaid over the music.

“ _TO MAKE ME FEEL STRONGER_ -”

“Mixing your drinks?” Thomas said to Jimmy.

“ _WHEN THE DAYS ARE ROUGH_ -”

“What?”

“ _AND AN HOUR SEEMS MUCH LONGER_ -”

“You're mixing your drinks!” Thomas shouted.

“ _I never doubted you at all_ …”

“And you’re too fuckin’ tall!” Jimmy retorted, before addressing the barmaid again. “He'll have the same!”

“ _The stars collide, will you stand by and watch them fall_ … _?_ ”

“I will, will I?” Thomas asked, stretching to his full height and looking down at Jimmy, though he was only three or four inches taller. The barmaid paused, waiting for a clear order.

“ _So hold me ’til the sky is clear_ …”

Jimmy met Thomas's eyes strongly. “Yeah, you _will_ ,” he insisted, though without much force.

“ _And whisper words of love_ -”

“Then I s’pose I will,” Thomas shrugged, turning to the barmaid, who set about making the drink.

“ _RIGHT INTO MY EAR, ‘CAUSE I GOT YOU_ -”

“A proper man's drink, Jimmy!” shouted Charlotte from behind them, nudging her shoulder against his. The more tipsy she got, the harder she seemed to be pushing.

“ _TO MAKE ME FEEL STRONGER_ -”

“That's ‘cause we're proper men,” Jimmy responded, but there seemed to be a little harshness in his teasing with her, which had not been present when he had been talking to Thomas. He made a movement as if to toast Thomas, a movement that knocked their fingers together more than their glasses. Thomas had to suppress his grin at the contact.

“ _WHEN THE DAYS ARE ROUGH AND AN HOUR SEEMS MUCH LONGER_ -”

“What's with the McFly tribute?” Thomas yelled while the others got their drinks, doing his best to stop the lyrics rattling his entire brain.

Jimmy stood on tiptoes, putting his hand on Thomas's shoulder for balance, and squinted across the room. Thomas put a hand on his lower back, ostensibly to steady him, but really just so he could touch the man. “I've seen these before! They have a thing for British music. You'll be right at home,” he added, elbowing Thomas in the ribs as he dropped back on his heels. Glancing round to see that everyone had a drink, he added: “Let's get closer!”

Jimmy had no compunction about pushing his way through the crowd of tables and swaying people, clearing a way for the others to follow on. Thomas was struggling to remember that the rest of the group were there. He was so tempted to take Jimmy’s hand, lean in close and whisper, _let’s leave these people and go somewhere we can be alone._

The band started playing a song that Thomas did not know. They were quite close now, and the drumbeat took the place of Thomas’s heart. He watched Jimmy, mostly. Charlotte had got him to dance with her, but Thomas couldn't help but note that he seemed to be taking care to keep their bodies apart.

 _He's lonely,_ Thomas thought suddenly. Jimmy's parents were gone. He said that no one understood his need to travel - so no one understood _him_. He had said he became a tour guide so he could have a social life, and yet here he was on a Saturday night with a bunch of strangers, people who would be gone within a week.

Suddenly, the crowd seemed too much, the music too intrusive. Thomas stumbled away, shoving past people who loomed into his path without warning.

He pushed into the mercifully quieter toilets. The light was blue in here, surely a recipe for a headache. Thomas went into a cubicle, pulled the toilet seat down and sat to relieve himself, just so he could have a moment to pause. He leaned his head in his hands with his elbows resting on his knees.

He _wanted_ Jimmy, so badly. To know him, to fuck him, to dance and laugh with him.

Thomas pulled at his hair hard enough to hurt. “Stop it, stop it, stop it,” he whispered at himself. He was exhausted with heartache. He didn't know if he had the strength to put himself back together yet again.

Deep breaths. No point in ruining tonight - it might be all he had with Jimmy.

Deep breaths. Fix hair. And accept it: tonight is all, so enjoy it.

Thomas tidied himself up and went back into the bar room. Jimmy was standing not far from the toilet door, the others arrayed around him like he was the centre of everything.

“There you are!” Jimmy cried when he saw Thomas. “I had a great idea!”

“It's a surprise, apparently,” Rita put in, drily amused.

“Yeah, for you!” Jimmy shouted to Thomas enthusiastically. He looked much more drunk than Thomas was. “'Cause I was thinking, right - I was thinking, how often would you get to see a drag show in a little village?”

“A… A drag show?” Thomas glanced instinctively at the others. Rita looked intrigued, Jerry seemed quite happy to follow along anywhere, but Charlotte and Terri seemed less than thrilled with the idea.

“Yeah! There's a great one on Columbus. It's a bit late but there should still be something going on. Everyone else wants to come, right?” He looked around as if appealing for support.

“I'm not going to a place like _that_ ,” said Terri, looking appalled.

Jimmy's face fell as Charlotte shook her head, sneering.

The disgust on their faces ignited Thomas's defiance. “Let's do it,” he said firmly.

“Yess!” Jimmy cried triumphantly, actually punching the air in his excitement. He hurried to stand by Thomas, bumping heavily against his shoulder as though he couldn't quite find his balance. “Who's with us?”

“We are!” responded Rita enthusiastically, before shooting a disapproving look at Terri and Charlotte.

“You don’t want to come?” Jimmy asked Lauren.

Lauren looked uncertainly at her companions. “I - er - well, we should be going, I suppose.”

“And good riddance,” retorted Jerry, slinging an arm around his wife to march out.

The remaining four staggered out to the street, all a bit worse for wear for drink. Thomas was holding his left forearm out horizontally; Jimmy was clutching it and leaning heavily. Thomas looked at Jimmy's hand and got a good look at his ring for the first time. It was a silver band, perhaps half a centimeter wide, and at the top, it was inlaid with shiny colours making up a rainbow. It wasn't any old rainbow, it was the perfect Pride flag: six hues, all bright and shiny.

Thomas looked up into Jimmy's face. He seemed to have been looking at the ring too, and now his eyes rose to meet Thomas's, struggling slightly to bring him into proper focus.

And then he winked.

In that one, single, beautiful moment that Jimmy winked, Thomas became utterly convinced that Jimmy was gay - or bi, pan, whatever - the point was, _not straight_ . Jimmy was _not straight_ and he _had_ been flirting with Thomas and he had worn this ring tonight so Thomas would know.

Thomas found himself grinning uncontrollably. Whatever else happened now, he wouldn't care, because he knew. He knew that Jimmy was attracted to him.

Oblivious to the wondrous revelations taking place, Rita edged forward and asked Jimmy: “How far is it?”

Thomas missed the answer, too busy watching Jimmy. Only four of the group left now. The others had fallen by the wayside on what felt increasingly like his and Jimmy's night out. It was like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, with the unworthy kids staying behind until only one remained.

Chuckling at the thought, Thomas said to Jimmy: “Are you Willy Wonka?”

Jimmy gaped at him and then literally cackled, like an old witch. “My Willy ain’t wonky, darlin’.”

Thomas snorted, which sent them both into hysterics until they were barely able to stand and had to lean into each other for support. Jerry and Rita seemed to catch some of their amusement, laughing along with them before eventually chivvying them on. Jimmy hooted a few times as he settled down.

“Next block,” he said, slipping his hand into Thomas’s. “You see it there?”

A nod was the only answer Thomas could find.

Jimmy smiled at him, softer now. It was as though the pressure had lifted now that they knew they were on the same page. There was no headlong rush towards a particular goal - there was just the two of them, and the strangers behind, and San Francisco all around.


	6. Chapter 6

“Find a table, I’ll get the drinks,” Jimmy said as they entered the drag club, having paid their cover. “What do you want?”

“A beer, the darker the better, please,” said Rita.

“Jerry?”

“I think I fancy a cider, thanks, Jimmy.”

“Thomas?”

“Another whiskey and coke, please, and a hot man to bring it to me.” Sober Thomas would have been surprised to hear that coming out of his mouth. Drunk Thomas just went with it.

“I’ll see if any of the waiters are free,” Jimmy teased with a grin. He turned on his heel and headed for the bar.

Thomas watched him go, seeing his bare calves and unfortunately-clothed arse.

He turned away before Rita and Jerry could notice his staring, and followed the couple to a table near the back, since most of the seats close to the stage were taken. He had no shame about being gay - not any more - but as purely a safety thing, he avoided letting anyone know his orientation unless it was strictly necessary.

Not that he hadn’t already given himself utterly away, but some habits were hard to break.

The drag queen on stage was lip-synching to _I Am What I Am_ . No one said drag clubs had to be original. She was great, though; her movements matched perfectly with the lyrics and she had stage presence in spades. Thomas had been to a drag club before - a long time ago, though. He had been in London on a weekend break with an ex. Then, too, he remembered being impressed by the ability to walk _anywhere_ in high heels, never mind strutting around in the six-inch-high purple stilletoes this queen was wearing. Her entire outfit was purple: tights, a short ruffled skirt, and a corset over a long-sleeved sheer top.

Spotting Jimmy on his way back, Thomas beamed at him like Jimmy was the best thing he had seen all week.

On reflection, Thomas was more drunk than he had thought. It had subsided a little as he sat in the cool bathroom of the previous pub, but the euphoria over that rainbow flag on Jimmy's ring had gone straight to his head. No pun intended. Thomas shook his head; that had barely been a pun at all.

Jimmy dropped heavily into the spare seat, only one drink in his hand, which already looked half-gone.

Thomas turned his own seat to face him, leaning his left arm on the table.

“I found a hot man for you,” Jimmy said, gesturing vaguely at the man who had followed him and who was putting the remaining three glasses down on the table. The waiter gave them a polite, slightly uncomfortable smile before he turned to leave.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Thomas said, “He’s not the one I’d’ve picked out of this room.”

Jimmy bit his lip and smirked.

Thomas had a sip of whiskey and managed to look back at the stage.

“Oh, it’s Suzy!” Jimmy cried. His volume seemed to increase according to his level of intoxication. “I love her!”

“How often do you come here?” asked Jerry.

“I dunno, a month,” Jimmy answered unclearly. He sounded as muddled as Thomas’s head felt. Thomas instinctively had a gulp of his drink to clear it, before remembering that more alcohol was only going to make it worse.

“Who’s your favourite?” asked Thomas.

“Suzy’s awesome! You’ve not been before, have you?” He was pointing between Rita and Jerry.

“Not our usual scene,” Rita agreed. “But we’re on holiday to try new things, after all.”

“And you?” Jimmy asked, looking to Thomas.

“Yeah, I’ve been to a drag club before. Long time ago.”

Jimmy nodded at him vaguely and licked his lips, his eyes fixed on Thomas’s. Turning his chair so that they directly faced each other, he leaned forward unsteadily and ended up resting his palms on Thomas’s thighs. Slowly, he looked Thomas up and down, his fingers tightening their grip. “Y’should ask her t’borrow it,” he said breathlessly, his head tipping drunkenly towards Suzy on stage. “You would look fucking hot in a corset.”

Arousal raised the hairs on the back of Thomas's neck. Jimmy's voice as he had said that, low and direct... He put his mouth close to Jimmy’s ear and whispered: “How d’you know I haven’t already tried one on?”

Jimmy sat up enough to gape at him. For a few seconds, they just stared at each other.

“We’re going dancing,” Jimmy said abruptly, getting clumsily to his feet and grabbing Thomas’s hand to pull him along too. Thomas let himself be dragged, seeing Rita and Jerry hurry to follow, jumping up and seizing their coats.

A glance at his watch as Thomas was hurried outside showed that it was 11:20. “We’ve barely been here twenty minutes,” he laughed.

“But we have to go _dancing_ ,” Jimmy insisted, pulling out his phone with the hand that was not holding Thomas’s. “I’m gettin’ an uber, hang on.”

“Hardly worth going in,” Jerry commented good-naturedly while they waited on the pavement - or sidewalk - outside. “I was enjoying that.”

His wife gave him an interested look as though she was seeing him in a whole new light.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jerry retorted, rolling his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with finding entertainment entertaining.”

“No, no, I know,” Rita smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Uber!” Jimmy announced as a car pulled up in front of them. He led Thomas by the hand around the back of the car and then inside it. Jimmy took the centre seat, which left Thomas to take the roadside. Thomas couldn’t help but laugh at Jimmy's enthusiasm, and at the four of them squeezing into the car.

“Where are we going?” Thomas asked, looking at Jimmy to his right.

“The Castro,” said Jimmy. “I know the best place for dancing in the whole city.”

“That’s quite a claim.”

“Think I won’t live up to it?”

“I think you’re full o’ big talk.”

“And you’re… full of… full of it.”

“What?” Thomas laughed.

“I dunno, I’m _drunk_ ,” Jimmy protested.

“So am _I_ , I still know how to speak.”

“You’re pretty hot already, you know.”

“Thank you. I know. You’re pretty hot too. And just pretty. You’re that as well.”

“I’m not pretty, I’m -”

“Here!” the driver said loudly. “Are you gettin’ outta this car or do I gotta throw you out?”

Thomas turned his head to look through the window and realised that they had come to a halt.

“What do we owe you?” asked Jerry, in the front seat, pulling out his wallet.

Rita gave him a playful shove from the seat behind. “Caveman! It’s uber - you pay on the app when you order it.”

“Everything’s a bloody app these days,” Jerry grumbled, opening the door and getting out.

Thomas was looking around. Jimmy had finally let go of him in the process of getting out of the car, but Thomas had paid so little attention to his surroundings on the journey over that it was almost as though Jimmy had taken him by the hand and drawn him here by magic.

Spotting something at the end of the road, Thomas pointed it out to Jimmy. “Look - have you seen the rainbow crossings?” They were one of Thomas's favourite things about the Castro district.

Jimmy gave him a briefly incredulous look, his nose wrinkling. “I _live_ here, Thomas.”

“...Right. No, I know, I was showing Jerry and Rita.”

“You are such a liar,” Jimmy said, squaring up to him.

“Gonna be lying on you,” Thomas leered, dipping his face closer to Jimmy’s. He had a feeling the look was more threatening than he had been going for.

“And you are fucking _terrible_ at pick-up lines.”

Thomas grabbed Jimmy’s shoulders, turned him around to face the rainbow-flag-adorned pub, and urged him inside. “Shut up and dance with me.”

Jimmy did not need telling twice. He hurried inside, moving with the music, not even stopping at the bar for a drink.

It was _crowded_ in here, to an extent that they had not nearly experienced thus far. The building was narrow - three people holding hands could have touched opposite walls - and the bar along the wall was so congested that it was a fight to get through to the dancefloor. The music was loud, but not _too_ loud.

Best of all, the place was full of same-gender couples dancing, androgynous youths wearing make-up and women in plaid shirts.

As he and Jimmy made their way closer to the middle, Thomas watched speckled emerald light playing on the body of a man who was dancing shirtless, forming a second set of freckles on his back.

But then Jimmy span around, moved into Thomas's space, and began to dance with abandon. Thomas had thought that Jimmy couldn't possibly get any sexier, and he had been wrong. Jimmy had such a sensual way of moving, even in such normal club-dancing, that it made Thomas dizzy just to stand next to him, never mind to dance with him in a warm crush of bodies and flickering lights.

“ _I ripped holes in my shirt,_

_There's mud on my shoes,_

_There's sun on my skin,_

_I am brand new -”_

The music was a mixture of old classics, modern hits and upbeat indie, and many of them had a queer theme. Thomas recognised a couple of songs from gay artists he had only heard on YouTube, thanks to Sybil sending him links. The atmosphere created was one of great fellowship and inclusion.

_“We shouted at cars,_

_We howled at the moon,_

_Just a matter of time,_

_Don't you get it?”_

The fact that it was a gay bar meant there was a decent chance that any of the men around him were gay, but tonight Thomas had eyes only for Jimmy.

_“We are the kids that you never can kill,_

_You never can kill,_

_You never can kill._

_You say that we won't_

_But you know that we will, keep on.”_

In the low light, Jimmy moved closer to him, and soon he was holding Thomas from behind with his fingertips slipped into the pockets of Thomas's shorts.

_“Don't wanna wait for permission,_

_We got our own fresh set of rules,_

_We take that old-school fashion,_

_Change it into something new.”_

Thomas ground back against Jimmy, straining to hear the small “ _mm…”_ noise he made.

_“You got your hand in my pocket,_

_You like to dance with my fingertips,_

_Don't gotta wait for permission,_

_You and I, we live for this.”_

The whole experience was so intense, so intimate, and Jimmy was so _close_ , that Thomas barely even registered that they were kissing with slow passion until he heard Rita say: “I think the tour’s over, Jerry!”

Thomas turned his head and looked at her blankly. Jimmy’s hands were on his shoulders.

“We'll leave you to it,” Rita went on in a conspiratorial voice.

Thomas tightened his grip on Jimmy's hips.

“Uh, right, see you,” Jimmy said vaguely.

Thomas just blinked at them. He felt like he should say something: ‘goodbye’, at least, or maybe even ‘thanks’. He watched as the couple turned and walked away through the crowd, until Jimmy slid one hand up from his shoulder to nudge his cheek and turn his head. For a brief second, Thomas could see the desire in Jimmy's face. It pulled low at his stomach. Then Jimmy closed his eyes and they were kissing again. It wasn’t frantic, like Thomas had imagined their first kiss might be, but deliberate and sensual. It made Thomas feel hot all over.

“Where are you staying?” asked Jimmy, moving his mouth close to Thomas’s ear.

"Fisherman’s Wharf.”

“My apartment’s closer,” Jimmy said, and pressed his lips to Thomas’s cheekbone. “And Ivy’s out with her partners.”

Thomas caught Jimmy’s lips again, but Jimmy kissed back for only a few seconds before pulling away and looking at Thomas expectantly.

“Um - yes,” Thomas said, having only just processed Jimmy’s words properly. He grinned as their full meaning caught up with him. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you can't tell that I've never been to a drag bar. The gay club is actually based on one in New Zealand.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I had to skip a week - this chapter is twice as long as usual so it all evens out in the end. (Thomas & Jimmy just WOULDN'T. STOP. TALKING.)

As they left the club, Thomas took a swift look back over his shoulder. He had no way of knowing how things would go, and if a night ended up being all he had with Jimmy, he at least wanted to remember it well.

“We can get the streetcar,” Jimmy said. “My apartment’s only a block away from the stop.”

“Streetcar?” Thomas asked, and looked down the street where Jimmy was pointing. “Oh. The tram.” They set off down the pavement towards it.

“It’s a streetcar.”

“It’s a tram.”

“You shut the fuck up,” Jimmy said, without heat.

Thomas kissed him, just because he could, and they got briefly distracted.

The sound of a tram bell made them start; Thomas looked up to see the tram driver leaning towards them to yell: “Eyyyy boys, get it on!” He dinged the bell a few more times, grinning at them as he passed by.

In perfect unison, both Thomas and Jimmy flipped him the bird, and were answered by the driver’s carefree laughter.

“Hey, wait for us at the stop, man!” Jimmy shouted after him.

“Race you!” the driver shouted back.

Jimmy darted a quick look at Thomas before starting to chase the tram, uncoordinated and incautious. If only to be there to stop him from falling on his face, Thomas hared after him. He felt as though he were running in the slipstream of Jimmy’s laughter, the two of them far behind the tram. They began to gain ground only as the tram slowed for the stop a hundred yards later, and they stumbled to a halt, panting, a good five seconds after it had pulled up.

They jumped aboard. Jimmy fed the machine a five-dollar bill and said: “Love the hair, mate.”

“Thanks, man!” the driver replied. He had a voluminous afro which was streaked through with blue, purple and turquoise, the colours striking next to his dark hair and skin. “My girlfriend did it. She talented, right?”

“Definitely,” Jimmy agreed. He gestured for Thomas to go ahead of him down the tram, so Thomas picked a seat somewhere in the middle. When Jimmy sat next to him, he placed his hand on Jimmy's thigh with his fingers curling around to the inside. Jimmy suppressed a smile and looked out of the opposite window, so Thomas left it there for the whole ride. His skin prickled with the awareness of what they would be doing when the journey was over.

It only took ten minutes or so of nighttime San Francisco drifting past before Jimmy leaned past Thomas and pulled the yellow cord to request a stop. Thomas followed him off the tram and they walked a block in silence. It was nearing midnight and the streets were quiet, though echoing with distant drunken shouts.

Jimmy stopped at one of the buildings and unlocked a black metal gate which led onto narrow stone stairs. After locking it behind them, he moved slowly past Thomas, as though he was just as aware as Thomas was of every brush of clothing. As they ascended the stairs, Thomas could hear Jimmy breathing. They went through Jimmy’s front door; Thomas took in a wooden-floored, white-walled hallway, only as wide as an internal door. In front of Thomas was a narrow table made of chunky wood, decorated with large summer-themed pictures and a scattering of keys, scarves and one odd sock.

“Sorry to be completely unsexy but I really gotta piss,” Jimmy said in a low voice. “Um, kitchen’s through there if you want a drink or somethin’,” he gestured to their right, through an archway, “and… my bedroom’s the next door on your left.”

A shiver ran up Thomas’s spine. He watched mutely as Jimmy strode down the hallway to his left and disappeared into what Thomas supposed was the bathroom.

For a moment, Thomas hesitated uncertainly in the hallway. He wasn’t the least bit thirsty, but it felt awkward and presumptive to go into Jimmy’s bedroom and wait for him.

Nah. On second thought, they both knew what they were here for.

Jimmy’s bedroom door had a small wooden sign on it, apparently handmade. The sign was painted white, and in calligraphed, old-fashioned black handwriting it said: “Mr. James Kent”. Thomas pushed open the door.

The wooden floor continued in here, and the walls were painted grey. On the wall opposite the door was a small window; the roller blind was open, giving onto a view of the street below and the lights of the opposite building. Under the window was a nightstand with two drawers, and on the opposite side of Jimmy’s double bed was a large white wardrobe. The duvet cover was an intense blue at the top and faded to brilliant white at the bottom, as though it had been dipped in ink. There was probably less than a metre of space to either side of the bed.

Going inside, Thomas closed the blind before settling on the edge of the bed, tapping his fingers with nervous anticipation. He examined the tall wooden bookcase next to the door. There were few books on it: mostly, it was covered with DVDs and Xbox games, along with a few assorted knickknacks that Thomas guessed Jimmy had picked up on his travels.

It seemed to be taking Jimmy a while. Thomas wondered if he was taking the opportunity to freshen up, and quickly sniffed his own armpits anxiously. Not exactly fresh as a daisy but he and Jimmy ought to be getting a whole lot sweatier in a few minutes.

Footsteps. Thomas sat up straighter, his eyes fixed on the doorway. He saw the shadow first, felt the presence of another person, and then - and then there Jimmy was - leaning against the doorframe wearing nothing but a smirk. Thomas’s jaw went slack.

Thomas hardly knew where to look first. How was he supposed to choose between the smugness in Jimmy’s eyes and the beautiful fingers curved around his hip? Or the small blue jewel on the piercing in his belly button? His cock, already half-hard; his stomach muscles; the small bruise on his thigh…? Thomas’s eyes darted all over him. Jimmy was smooth, mostly - what hair he had was fine and pale; barely noticeable. There was a small hunch to his shoulders as though he spent most of his time slouching.

A swallow dropped down Thomas’s throat as he raised his gaze to meet Jimmy’s again.

“Get over here,” Thomas said quietly.

The smirk on Jimmy’s lips broadened. He took his time in sauntering over to Thomas, who rose to his feet to meet him. Thomas watched the way Jimmy moved, before his attention was caught by the tattoo that Jimmy had revealed when he took his hand off his hip:  _ Ramble on... _

“ _ And now’s the time, the time is now _ ,” Thomas murmured. As Jimmy reached him, Thomas put his hand out to touch the ink, smoothing his thumb over the words as his hand found Jimmy’s hip. He had barely looked up before Jimmy was kissing him, deep and slow, until Thomas couldn’t have found another word of Led Zeppelin lyrics if you’d paid him. He did, however, remember to ask: “Any preferences?”

“ _ Never _ call me sweetheart,” Jimmy answered, twitching slightly on the last word, as though suppressing a shudder. “And I like my thighs bein’ touched. You?”

“I have very ticklish feet. Only touch them on pain of death.”

Jimmy snorted. “Any allergies?”

“ _ Allergies? _ ” What the hell did allergies have to do with it?

Jimmy raised an eyebrow at him. “Latex condoms?”

“Oh… no, I’m good.”

“I  _ bet _ you are,” Jimmy winked.

“You don’t even know.”

Jimmy grinned at him for a moment, then briefly kissed him again. “Can I top for you?”

“Sounds good to me. Can I get my mouth on you first?”

“Like I’m gonna turn you down.”

For the space of a breath, they each waited for the other to initiate. Then Thomas turned and sat Jimmy down on the bed, waving him backwards with a hand gesture. Jimmy was still half-hard and Thomas licked his lips as he watched the way Jimmy’s cock moved as Jimmy shifted backwards.

“Condoms are in the second drawer,” Jimmy said, shooting a glance at his nightstand. He had settled against the pillows, his legs parted and knees raised. “There’s some cheap flavoured ones in there somewhere if you like that kinda thing. Got ‘em free at Pride last year.” He wrapped a hand around his dick and started stroking slowly, his eyes raking over Thomas’s body.

“You’re startin’ without me,” Thomas protested, rummaging quickly through the drawer.

“Gettin’ ready for you, aren’t I?” Jimmy countered.

Thomas grabbed for a strawberry-flavoured condom and a bottle of lube before climbing onto the bed. “I’m not sure whether to be impressed or concerned by your extensive condom collection.” Jimmy looked to be hard now, so Thomas carefully tore the condom wrapper open.

“Always good to be prepared,” Jimmy said, taking the condom from Thomas and putting it on himself, but not before Thomas had squeezed a tiny bit of lube inside it.

“To keep it good an’ wet,” he said.

Jimmy gave a little moan. “I like your style.”

Thomas began to bend his head, but before he could get any further Jimmy stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait.” He leaned forward and gripped the bottom edges of Thomas’s black t-shirt. Thomas raised his arms obligingly to let Jimmy pull it off him; Jimmy grinned as Thomas’s chest was revealed, his hand dropping back to his cock. “Much better.”

“Impertinent.”

“D’you always turn into a dictionary when you’re turned on? Most people go all… bleh… But you’re all long words.”

“Pretty much.” He slapped Jimmy’s hand away from his cock and Jimmy held them both up like a surrender - only to drop them to the mattress when Thomas gently pushed his thighs apart. He touched his lips to the side of Jimmy’s right knee, working his way down with teasing slowness, soft kisses down the length of Jimmy’s inner thigh. With only a brief lick to the underside of Jimmy’s cock, Thomas moved his mouth away to Jimmy’s left knee to begin again.

Squirming a little, Jimmy tightened his grip on the duvet, as though preventing himself from letting go to reach for himself.

His thighs were as muscular as Thomas had expected, strong and firm. They were only a little less tanned than his calves, leading Thomas to picture him sunbathing naked - spread out on warm sand, smiling and sleepy.

Jimmy tipped back his head as Thomas took him in his mouth, sliding his tongue over the tip and tasting artificial strawberries. He hummed in mild surprise; Jimmy shivered. “That’s good,” he said in a low voice.

Thomas took him deeper, feeling the length of him right to the back of his tongue. He hummed again and Jimmy moaned. The sound of it went straight to Thomas’s cock. As he bobbed his head, he rubbed his palms against Jimmy’s thighs. Jimmy was breathing more heavily now. His hips made aborted jerks as he made himself keep still.

“I - I think - you’d better stop there. Your turn now.”

Thomas let Jimmy slip out of his mouth in a lingering movement. When Jimmy made to remove the condom, he said: “Can leave that, can’t you?”

“Nah.” Jimmy wrapped it up in a tissue from the box on his nightstand. “Might have sugar in, so ‘sno good for this.” He put his hand in the drawer, apparently looking for something.

“I think you’re putting too much thought into this.”

Jimmy shot him a vaguely disapproving look, still hunting through the drawer. “I think I’m putting exactly the right amount of thought into not giving you an ass infection.”

“Eh… point taken.”

“Ah…” Jimmy’s hand emerged holding a plastic glove and another condom. “Thought I’d better get an extra thick one, or this is gonna last about five seconds,” he explained, putting the condom on and pulling the glove onto his left hand. “Right then, you!” He grabbed for Thomas’s waist, pushing him over and tackling him against the bed, his expression like sunshine at midnight. “You are entirely too clothed,” he said, stroking Thomas’s erection through his shorts. He made short work of the button and fly, and tugged the clothing off in one smooth movement when Thomas lifted his hips.

Thomas was already turned on from what they had done so far, so his breath caught from just a few strokes of Jimmy’s hand on his cock. He watched Jimmy squeezing lube onto his gloved fingers.

“How long’s it been?” Jimmy asked. “I mean - how careful should I be?”

“I’m pretty used to it, but careful’s always good.”

Jimmy hooked Thomas's left leg over his shoulder and rubbed a finger against the edge of Thomas's hole. “Slow and maddening it is, then.”

“Ahhh - I didn't - didn't necessarily say  _ maddening -” _

“Hush,” Jimmy said calmly, his right hand smoothing over Thomas's thigh in a touch that might have been comforting if he had not slipped the tip of his left forefinger inside Thomas at the same time. He leaned in to kiss Thomas, but Thomas said quickly:

“Woah, hold on.”

Jimmy stopped.

“Take that piercing out first, I don't trust it near my unmentionables.”

Jimmy laughed, guiding Thomas’s leg back off his shoulder. He quickly removed the bar from his belly button and placed it safely on top of the nightstand. “There. And while we're about it, you probably ought to have a condom too.” He leaned over Thomas, balancing on his right hand while his left dipped into the condom drawer once again. It was reassuring to know that he was careful; so Thomas was free to enjoy everything they were doing together. Thomas looked up at him - at his sensual mouth, his strong jaw, and the ring through his nose. He felt as though he were living all their moments at once: Jimmy had kissed him, Jimmy was on top of him, Jimmy would fuck him, and in some strange space inside Thomas’s head, all these moments were layered together.

Jimmy dropped back. He gently pushed back Thomas's foreskin and stroked Thomas as he put the condom on, unrolling it a little further with every downward stroke. Thomas could feel himself leaking pre-come inside it. Once it was in place, Jimmy squeezed some more lube onto his fingers and gradually began to push inside Thomas again, and leaned down for a kiss.

God, it was like being touched everywhere at once with their lips together and Jimmy inside him and Thomas pumping his own cock slowly. Jimmy scraped the fingernails of his free hand over Thomas's shoulder.

Thomas broke the kiss. “I - I don't really like the scratching.” His voice sounded strange - shaky with arousal.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Jimmy said at once, stroking the spot gently with his thumb before pressing his lips to the skin in a soothing gesture. He moved across Thomas’s chest, leaving a trail of kisses below his collarbone. Thomas’s chest rose and fell rapidly beneath his mouth.

“I'm ready, I think,” Thomas said after a few moments. God, was he ready - he had been wanting this since the moment he set eyes on Jimmy, had been in a state of low-level arousal all evening from the flirting.

Jimmy removed his fingers and quickly stripped off the glove. Thomas shivered as Jimmy squirted a generous amount of lube onto his cock. Thomas reached out himself to spread it, making Jimmy moan quietly.

“Ready?” Jimmy asked in a hushed voice. He was breathing heavily.

Thomas lifted his knees, holding Jimmy between his thighs. “Yeah,” he whispered back. When Jimmy kissed him, Thomas pressed up against him, putting all his passion into it. Jimmy used one hand to guide himself into Thomas's body before using both of them to support himself above Thomas. He nipped Thomas's lower lip when Thomas squeezed his forearms.

Jimmy was stretching him out as he pushed in slowly, and it was so  _ good _ , but too much - too much pain mixed in with the pleasure. Jimmy froze when Thomas made a noise of discomfort. “Okay?” He didn't look capable of finding a full sentence at that moment, despite the concern on his face.

“I - just - just jiggle a bit or somethin’.” He was too turned on to feel stupid about the wording, but it was a close thing.

Jimmy buried a weak laugh in Thomas's neck. “Jiggle a bit,” he repeated feebly. They made shallow thrusts together.

An unreasonable level of fondness bubbled up inside Thomas. His hands slid up Jimmy's biceps, the muscles taut under his fingers. He encircled Jimmy in his arms and held him loosely as they moved as one. Jimmy’s back was soft under Thomas’s hands. The pain faded out as his muscles relaxed, making space for Jimmy, and any discomfort melted into pleasure. “Mmm… ‘Kay… More.”

They thrust a little harder, faster. “Like this?”

“Yeah.”

Jimmy mouthed at Thomas’s neck. “I’ve got ya, babe.”

Thomas felt like the sea, like waves breaking on the shore - soft and powerful. Their breathing was the sibilant soundtrack echoing the ocean’s whisper. Jimmy pressed kisses to Thomas’s ear, the corner of his jaw. Thomas slid a hand up to the back of his neck and they kissed messily.

Jimmy’s groan pushed them apart. He rested his forehead against Thomas’s, his eyes closed. “I’m fucking close, man.”

If Jimmy was ready, Thomas wanted to be right there with him. Sliding a hand between them, he touched his own cock quickly and whispered: “Come, then.”

The movement of Jimmy’s hips increased in speed, making Thomas gasp for breath at the double sensations. Seconds later, he came hard and moaning, clutching at the back of Jimmy’s neck.

Jimmy’s thrusting slowed to a stop. “Mmm…”

He pulled out, holding the condom in place. Thomas winced briefly at the feeling. He watched as Jimmy pulled away from him and sat back on his heels, riding on a post-orgasmic glow. They removed their condoms almost in unison; Jimmy gave him a tissue to wrap it in, followed by a wetwipe to clean up.

Thomas couldn’t help but chuckle tiredly. “You really are prepared for anything.”

A wink was his answer. “Back in a sec.” Jimmy clambered off the bed and headed out of the room. Thomas watched him leave, taking in the sight of the dimples in his back.

He ought to be going. He rubbed his eyes wearily; he didn’t want to leave. Reluctantly, Thomas stood, and pulled on his black trunk-style underwear.

Before he could get any further, he caught movement in the doorway. Jimmy had returned, now wearing  _ Daredevil _ boxer shorts. He stood just inside the room, biting his lip.

“You okay?” Thomas asked.

Jimmy nodded. “You don’t want to be going back to your hotel now... Why don’t you stay with me tonight?”

-

For the first time since he had arrived in San Francisco, Thomas did not wake up in his hotel bed. The room was still fairly dark, though faint illumination was peeking through from behind the window blind and the door, which stood ajar. Turning over gingerly, Thomas saw that he was alone. He vaguely remembered stirring at the sound of a phone buzzing, before dropping off again to the gentle feeling of fingers in his hair. He was not sure whether he might have imagined that.

Sitting up carefully, Thomas assessed the state of his hangover. Aside from the ache in his head and rather sensitive feeling in his belly, it didn't seem too bad. He was also dying for the loo.

Slowly, Thomas made his way through Jimmy's bedroom door, pausing only to fish his vape out of his shorts pocket. He picked his way down the hall to where he had seen Jimmy go the previous night, finding the bathroom without any trouble. He looked at himself in the mirror above the sink, but he looked just the same as he always did after a night out.

There were small noises coming from another room. Thomas followed them to the other end of the hall; through the archway that Jimmy had pointed out last night, Thomas could see a beige two-seater sofa. As he went inside, a bay window was revealed, a tiny table and two chairs in front of it. Protruding from the wall a bit further along was a breakfast bar, and behind that, on the far wall, the counters and cookertop of the kitchen.

Jimmy was standing at the counter with his back to Thomas, staring blankly at the coffee machine on top. It stood between a scattering of possessions that seemed to be a mix of Jimmy's and his flatmate's - the front of the surfaces were clear, but the side by the wall was covered in spice jars, a necklace with a large green gem, a weekly pill box made of transparent blue plastic, a wooden knife block, a bucket of popcorn and a polkadot biscuit jar, among other things.

“Morning,” Thomas croaked.

Jimmy turned slowly. He was wearing a kimono-style dressing gown that was the colour of good claret. The dark shadows under his eyes and slumped posture told Thomas that Jimmy was feeling much worse than he was.

Jimmy gave him a lascivious look up and down. “Look at  _ you _ ,” he drawled, sounding very pleased with himself. He stepped carefully towards Thomas, who met him between the end of the breakfast bar and the fridge. Jimmy reached up to touch Thomas's jaw. “The scruff is a  _ very _ nice addition.”

Thomas’s hands had gone to Jimmy's hips automatically, after putting his vape on the breakfast bar. “I still think you should get those snakebites.”

Jimmy's face fell. “I can't get any more piercings.”

“Why not?” All he had to do was wait until he got a different job.

“Are you hungry?” Jimmy stepped out of Thomas's hold. “I don't normally eat breakfast but I think there's some bread left. Ivy doesn't like it if I let people use her muesli. And there's coffee.”

“Coffee would be great,” Thomas agreed, just as he heard a door opening. “But I don't think I can cope with any food yet.”

“Morning!” came the breezy voice of someone who was clearly not as hungover as Thomas and Jimmy.

Turning, Thomas saw the young brunette woman who had kissed Jimmy on the cheek, that first night in Kennedy's. He blinked. What on earth was  _ she  _ doing here? Had she and Jimmy hooked up and she’d just been… what… hiding in another bedroom?

“Ugh,” said Jimmy, pouring Thomas an enormous mug of coffee. He slid it across the breakfast bar towards him. Some of the coffee spilled over the edge.

“Aren’t you late for work?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes at Thomas, as if to say:  _ Can you believe her?! _

Thomas could not figure out what the hell was going on. He sipped his coffee in silence.

“No, not yet,” Jimmy answered her. “Leave me alone.”

“Someone’s hungover,” the woman said cheerfully. “You know, I find it really helps -”

“It really helps if you shut the fuck up,” Jimmy retorted grumpily. “How are Daisy and Alfred?”

“Great,” the woman replied, her briefly pissed-off expression melting into a smile. “I have the best partners in the world.”

Jimmy shot Thomas a significant look, as though he had just deployed his secret weapon. Thomas guessed that she talked about Daisy and Alfred a lot.

Daisy and Alfred, her partners. “You’re his flatmate,” Thomas said in relief.

Two pairs of eyes turned to him in surprise.

“Um - I thought you looked familiar just now, and I just realised that I saw you at Kennedy’s the other day,” Thomas said.

They seemed to accept this back-to-front version of his thoughts. “I’m Ivy,” the woman said, smiling. “Since Jimmy neglected to introduce us.”

Thomas was not sure about the etiquette of coming home to find an almost-naked man in your flat, but he was fairly sure there was no established convention on whether or not Jimmy should have introduced them. Feeling an irrational urge to prove that  _ he  _ meant something to Jimmy too, Thomas turned to him; “Mind if I vape?”

A small grimace flashed across Jimmy’s face. “Long as you do it out the window. I’ve quit.”

“Eventually,” put in Ivy, getting a bag of muesli and a bowl out of a cupboard.

Thomas was already on his way to the bay window, and glanced over his shoulder to catch Jimmy’s reaction - he was pulling a face at Ivy’s back. Thomas couldn’t help but smile as he opened the window.

“I’ll have to hurry you out when you’re done,” Jimmy said to Thomas. “I’ve gotta get to work.”

“No problem,” Thomas answered. His first hit of nicotine for the day felt good.

“I - um - You could meet me for lunch. If you want.”

Thomas felt warmed up from the inside at the knowledge that Jimmy wanted to see him again - and lunch implied that it wasn’t for sex, it was just because… because maybe Jimmy liked him. Thomas exhaled a cloud of cherry-flavoured vapour out of the window before turning to answer. “Sounds good.”

Their eyes caught across the kitchen.

“Good,” Jimmy said, but he looked more nervous than relieved. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

The warm feeling vanished. Perhaps it wasn’t that Jimmy wanted to spend time with him, he just wanted… what? Thomas averted his eyes as he blew out more vapour, trying to hide his disappointment. “Okay.”

He could hear Jimmy moving towards him, but kept his attention on the people walking the pavement below until Jimmy put Thomas’s coffee on the tiny table with a clunk. When he looked up, Jimmy was looking at him seriously. “I could have just told you now if I never wanted to see you again,” he pointed out quietly.

He had read Thomas’s insecurity more accurately than Phillip - no, more accurately than  _ anyone _ ever had. Thomas had learned to hide his insecurities well, but it seemed that Jimmy could see straight through him after knowing him for barely forty-eight hours. Thomas wasn’t sure if that was more invigorating or terrifying.

“You could,” he agreed, and Jimmy smiled at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So nervous about this onnnnne so a comment to tell me what you think would be very appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some mild but spoilery content warnings for this chapter, shoot me a tumblr message if you'd like to hear them (starrythomas.tumblr.com/ask or the IM system).

Usually, Thomas hated this bit. Going outside so early with a hangover after making awkward morning-after small talk with a stranger. The light was always too bright, the air too cold or the sky too rainy. Today, though, he didn’t mind it too much. It helped that he was in San Francisco, meaning that although the light was very bright indeed, it was warm and dry.

He wanted nothing more than a quiet morning, so headed back to his hotel. After a long shower, Thomas lay on his bed in the hotel dressing gown and read the book he had brought with him and not opened until now. He couldn’t concentrate, though. He kept closing his eyes to relive moments from the night before, or gazing blankly at the words as he wondered where Jimmy was on the tour route at that moment. His stomach was in knots, and not just from the hangover - which was, in any case, fading under the onslaught of coffee and water. He was looking forward to seeing Jimmy later on.

When he remembered to turn on his phone’s wifi, a whatsapp message came through from Phyllis in response to the Bay Bridge photo he had sent her.

_ How lovely! I hope you’re having a great time out there. Try not to drink too much. _

Thomas snorted. Too late for that.

He was due to meet Jimmy at Haigt-Ashbury at half past one. At twelve-thirty, Thomas went into the en suite to get ready. First, he brushed his teeth, then squirted shaving cream into his hand and spread it over the relevant bits of his face.

He paused with his fingers on his jaw, remembering Jimmy's touch. Remembering Jimmy's reaction to his unshaven face.

For a moment, Thomas considered leaving the stubble, but he had been clean-shaven since the age of twenty, when he realised that the goatee he had been so proud of growing looked utterly ludicrous - and he wasn't about to change his shaving habits just because of one man he barely knew.

Not yet, anyway.

Thomas shaved as usual, got himself dressed, and headed out, having looked up a bus to get him to Haigt-Ashbury using the hotel wifi. His skin was tingling with excitement under the sunshine. Once on the bus, he gazed out of the window, recognising areas he had been through on various bus tours. It was a cosy sort of feeling to realise that he was getting to know the city a little.

Thomas jumped off the bus a few blocks down from where he was due to meet Jimmy. He set off walking, dodging residents and tourists on the pavement as he went. The street was lined with a plethora of restaurants and second-hand shops, a few pubs, and a cafe or two. One cafe was just on the corner, its entrance on the side street. Thomas spotted Jimmy walking out of it, his head down as he rolled a cigarette.

“Hey, Jimmy!” Thomas called, turning down the side street to meet him.

Jimmy’s attention snapped up, his eyes wide. He hastily stuffed his hands into his shorts pockets and gave Thomas a strained smile. “Hey.”

Catching a faint whiff of something very distinct, Thomas’s eyes slid past Jimmy to spot a sticker of a leaf at the bottom of the cafe window. Following a hunch, Thomas said: “I really don’t care if you smoke weed.”

The tension drained out of Jimmy’s face. “Right. Um… thanks. Didn't want you to think…” He trailed off. “Anyway, how’s your hangover?”

“Not bad at all,” Thomas answered, falling into step with Jimmy as he led the way onwards. He wondered if the weed was what Jimmy had wanted to tell him about, but firstly that seemed a weird thing to make a lunch date to confess to, and secondly the alarm on Jimmy's face when Thomas had called his name told him that Jimmy had never intended for him to find out at all. Thomas had smoked it before: Tom had a friend who grew it, and he’d shared a joint with Thomas from time to time. “I've drunk about a hundred litres of water and coffee, so I feel pretty good. And you?”

“I think it would be easier just to cut my head off. I swear I thought I was gonna barf on the bus. God, I  _ never _ drink that much any more.” He paused, and cast a sidelong look at Thomas. “Good night, though.”

“ _ Very  _ good night. I’ve been thinkin’ about it all morning.”

“I’m just that good,” Jimmy smirked.

Thomas shoved his shoulder playfully; Jimmy went with the momentum, before bouncing back to nudge against Thomas. The casual physicality had Thomas fighting a smile.

“That’s what I was thinking of for lunch.” Jimmy pointed at a sign saying ‘Vegan Burg’.

Thomas raised an eyebrow at Jimmy. “You're never vegan?”

“ _ God _ , no,” Jimmy replied, with feeling. “But Daisy is, so we come here when we're all going out together sometimes, and the food is actually awesome.” He made to go inside, paused, and turned to point a finger at Thomas. “Never tell her I come here without her,” he said gravely.

Thomas crossed his heart seriously, but he couldn't quite suppress the twitching of his lips. He liked that Jimmy spoke like Thomas meeting Daisy was a possibility - that they might know each other long enough.

“C’mon, then,” Jimmy added, taking Thomas's wrist loosely. “We mustn't be seen loitering in the doorway, eh? She could have spies anywhere!”

“Dork,” Thomas retorted softly, letting himself be led inside.

It looked like nothing so much as an upmarket, eco-fied McDonald's inside, with white plastic tables and green plastic chairs. The difference was, instead of overflowing with screaming children and their harassed parents, the place was full of hipster teenagers and smiling families who looked like every one of them practiced yoga, including the babies. It was a bit unnerving, if Thomas was honest, though he couldn’t deny that it was a calmer atmosphere.

Jimmy strode straight to the back of the restaurant, where the till was, and grabbed a menu. He examined it intently, pressing close to Thomas so he could look at the pictures and descriptions too - even though there were plenty more menus on the pile. Thomas tried to concentrate on the options, but all he could think about was the warmth of Jimmy’s bare arm against his.

“What d’you fancy?” Jimmy asked.

“Um…” Thomas said blankly, having not taken in a word. He pointed at a burger at random, which happened to be 'creamy mushroom’.

“Did you actually look at them?” Jimmy asked, smiling lopsidedly when Thomas looked up.

They were so close that Thomas just had to kiss him, a chaste but lingering touch of lips. As they parted, Thomas instinctively stole a wary look at the server, but she looked as though she wouldn't have blinked an eye had they danced naked on the counter, so long as they put their order in promptly.

“Creamy mushroom and a barbeque with the soy patty,” Jimmy told her. “Along with extra fries, a strawberry lemonade, and - what do you want to drink, Thomas?”

There was something lovely about his name on Jimmy's lips. “Um, same for me, please.”

The woman tapped their order into the till, gave them two cardboard cups and a plastic device that would beep when their burgers were ready, and then read out the price. Their eyes slid to the other uncertainly.

“Split it?” Thomas suggested.

“Yeah,” Jimmy agreed.

It took Thomas longer than Jimmy to pick out the right bills, unfamiliar as he was with American money. As soon as Jimmy had handed over his cash, he grabbed both cups and headed for the drinks machine. The lemonade appeared to be pink - well, it was strawberry flavour. Thomas waited as Jimmy filled their cups and then they chose a table next to the mirrored wall.

Jimmy started telling him about the punters on the bus that morning, so Thomas listened and laughed and sipped at his drink.

“And then he didn't even give me a tip! All that bloody hasslin’ and not a single dime!”

“Yeah, but if tips were given based on how much trouble the customer caused, we'd both be millionaires,” Thomas pointed out. He had never worked in a job like Jimmy's, but the bookshop gave him plenty of experience with the most irritating of Joe Public.

The plastic indicator had started beeping and flashing its LEDs like a flying saucer almost a minute ago, but they had both ignored it. It was only now that Jimmy stood, picking it up and saying: “I'll get 'em.”

“I'll get cutlery,” Thomas offered, but was pulled up short by the look on Jimmy's face.

“Seriously, mate, all you need is a napkin.” He turned and approached the counter. Thomas took the opportunity to check out his arse, seeing his golden-toned thighs disappearing into washed-out blue denim cutoffs.

Jimmy returned with two burgers in large mess tins and a basket of chips. He put them onto the table cautiously, careful not to drop anything. The chips, he placed between them, so Thomas took one and chewed.

“How come you came to San Fran on your own?” Jimmy asked, before taking an enormous bite of his enormous burger.

Thomas immediately realised that this was going to be a Phillip conversation. “I booked it as a week away with my boyfriend,” he began. To his surprise, a little disappointment crept into Jimmy's expression, so he was quick to add: “ _ Ex  _ boyfriend, that is.” He too took a big bite of his mushroom burger, and was pleased to find it unexpectedly meaty.

“Ah, right… What happened?”

“We broke up,” Thomas said simply, not eager to get into the gory details.

“He's a dick,” said Jimmy.

Thomas's lips twisted. “You don't even know him.”

“I notice you didn't deny it, though.” He put his burger down to make his point. “Look at it this way - either he dumped you, in which case he's bonkers, or he did something bad enough for you to dump him, in which case he's an idiot.”

“We more sort of… imploded dramatically,” Thomas admitted fairly. “There was fault on both sides.”

Jimmy huffed and took another huge bite of burger. Thomas followed suit and they chewed companionably. If Thomas had not known, he would have thought the burger was chicken; it was very good, though impossible to eat with any dignity, as it was drenched in a creamy mushroom sauce. The lettuce inside didn't help, making a mouthful unwieldy and difficult to break off cleanly.

With sauce dripping from his mouth, Thomas instinctively glanced up to see if Jimmy had noticed, chewing rapidly. It turned out that Jimmy was staring at his mouth with a sort of glazed expression.

At this point, Thomas realised that he must look like he had an unnatural quantity of come leaking from his lips. He swallowed the mouthful quickly, and instead of getting embarrassed, Thomas locked eyes with Jimmy, swiped off the sauce with his thumb, and very deliberately licked it off.

“You're gonna be the death o’ me,” Jimmy muttered.

Thomas slipped the thumb into his mouth and sucked gently, and Jimmy actually closed his eyes.

“It is not even fair that you look that sexy with food all over your fuckin’ face.”

Grabbing one of the napkins that Jimmy had brought over, Thomas retorted: “It's not fair that you get to eat one of these burgers without getting it everywhere. You must have some kind of magic power.”

Jimmy peeked up through one blue eye, as though checking whether it was safe. He was endlessly charming. When he saw that Thomas was wiping his mouth, he opened the other eye too. “That's me; Wizard Kent.” He munched on a couple of chips before asking, with his mouth full: “What's your surname?”

“Barrow.”

“Wizard Kent and Warlock Barrow,” Jimmy grinned.

“We need an arch-nemesis. Who are we fighting against?”

“Shitty ex-boyfriends,” Jimmy said quietly. Something in his tone told Thomas he wasn't talking about Phillip.

“What's the difference between a wizard and a warlock anyway?” Thomas asked, partly to distract Jimmy from whatever past sorrows he could hear in his voice.

“No idea,” Jimmy replied, lightly. “I'll look it up.” He cleaned his hands carefully on a napkin before pulling his phone out. He tapped at it for a few seconds, then looked at the screen with an expression of dissatisfaction.

Thomas could watch the play of emotion across his face all damn day.

“Hmm… apparently there's not much difference but generally a warlock might be more skilled.”

“So I'm more skilled than you are,” Thomas crowed.

“Not  _ necessarily _ ,” Jimmy protested, though the argument was already lost.

Thomas grinned at him until Jimmy stuck his tongue out, and they both laughed. Thomas leaned across the table, resting a hand on Jimmy's shoulder, and Jimmy met him in the middle for a kiss. He tasted weird and barbeque-y, but Thomas didn't really care. In any case, he himself probably tasted weird and mushroom-y.

They parted. Jimmy blinked at him for a few seconds. “Right,” Jimmy said decisively, pushing his now-empty burger tin aside.

A strange rush of adrenaline sank through Thomas as he realised that Jimmy was about to tell him whatever it was he had wanted to say. He followed Jimmy's lead and pushed the remnants of their meal out of the way.

Jimmy clasped his hands together on the table in front of him, his gaze fixed on his own knuckles. “I usually tell people this  _ before _ I sleep with them,” he began. “I just… I didn't want you to think badly of me and then when we were at mine I couldn't find the words and I wish I'd told you before we had sex ‘cause it's like the longer I spend with you the harder it gets -”

Biting back a childish ‘that's what she said’, Thomas leaned forward and put his hands over Jimmy's. “Jimmy,” he interrupted gently. “Just tell me, okay?”

Jimmy nodded, and without looking up from their joined hands said: “I'm HIV positive.” He met Thomas's eyes at last as he went on rapidly: “But you're  _ safe _ , I swear; I take all my meds exactly how I'm supposed to, so the chance -”

“The chance of you passing it on is small,” Thomas finished for him. “And we used condoms, so the risk is…” He blew air through loose lips. “Negligible.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said in a small voice. “Are you mad at me?”

“I'm…” Thomas began. He wasn't sure what he was. Shocked, certainly. And sad; it wasn't an easy condition to live with. He amended his sentence. “I wish you had told me before,” he said, echoing Jimmy's sentiment.

Jimmy’s head dropped sadly. He began to pull his hands away, but Thomas tightened his grip to prevent it.

“But it wouldn't have changed anything,” he finished firmly.

Jimmy searched his face, the tension around his eyes easing. “No?”

“No.” Thomas stroked Jimmy's hand with his thumb. “You don't have to look so nervous.”

“Sorry. I'm not usually this weird about it. I did  _ mean  _ to tell you before, I just… It's not exactly a barrel o’ laughs, this. No piercings, no tattoos, quit smoking, lay off the booze… And… I was having fun with you. I didn't want to bring all this into it. I'm probably not always going to be as healthy as I am now, and it just felt good to forget about that for a while.”

“Unless they find some miracle cure,” Thomas said. You couldn't trust in a hope like that, but you could be comforted by it.

Jimmy gave a small, sad smile. “That elusive miracle cure.” He turned his wrists so that he was holding hands with Thomas in the middle of the table. “It's not so terrible, really. I have to be more careful than most people but I can live a pretty normal life. It's not like it was in the eighties.”

“How… What happened?” Thomas asked.

“To me?” Jimmy clarified; Thomas nodded. “Back when I was working in the pub… it was a gay pub, actually… I was going out with this lad called Ethan - one of the other people working there. And… I mean, I've never really understood this thing people have about doing it without protection. I'd much rather be safe and use a condom; it's just not worth the stress. Ends up feeling better with it on ‘cause I can relax. But Ethan really wanted to and we'd been together for a while and we were exclusive and that, so we got tested…” Jimmy bit his lip.

Thomas brought Jimmy's hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers, wanting to offer comfort.

“We both came back negative for everything so I said fine, let's do it. It was alright at first, I think. Then around Christmas I went on this road trip with Gwen, two weeks, ‘cause she wanted to see her dad who was really ill and she was worried about driving in the snow…” Jimmy trailed off and was quiet for a few seconds. Thomas stayed silent to let him picture it, or gather his thoughts, or whatever he was doing. “We'd call each other every day and he was all, ‘oh, I love you, sweetheart, can't wait ‘til you get back’, and I got back and we carried on as normal and then on New Year's Eve he told me he'd been seeing someone else while I was away.”

“Oh, no,” said Thomas, seeing where this was going.

“Yeah. He'd been sleeping with  _ him _ without protection, too. So I got tested and there it was. HIV positive. Jesus, it felt like the world was ending.”

“What a bastard,” Thomas murmured. There was no point raising his voice, because no amount of shouting in the world would be sufficient to convey how despicable he thought Ethan was.

“Yeah… Well.” He squeezed Thomas’s hands before letting go and reaching for a stray chip. He gave a brief, slightly embarrassed laugh. “I feel like you know all the skeletons in my closet by name now.”

“How about I introduce one of mine?” Thomas suggested, to his own surprise. There were some things he avoided  _ thinking  _ about, never mind discussing.

“Okay.” Jimmy rested his folded arms on the table and looked at Thomas with interest.

“Right, um… So my parents kicked me out when I was sixteen. I came out to them when I was fourteen and they spent two years going between ‘you're too young to know’ and ‘that's not even real’ and saying how disgusting those people were whenever we saw a gay couple or a Pride event or something.”

Jimmy was watching him seriously, without saying anything. He wrinkled his nose at Thomas’s parents’ reactions.

“But I couldn't be anything else.” There had been screaming matches about the posters on his bedroom walls, chilly silences, pointed redirections when they noticed him looking to long at a boy. “I kept telling them that so eventually they said fine, go do what you want, but you're not doing it under our roof. I think they felt like getting me to sixteen meant they'd done their duty and that was enough.”

“What did you do?”

“I’d been going to this LGBT group… one of the girls there, Phyllis, was a few years older, she let me kip on her sofa for a bit. I was pretty self-sufficient already; I’d had a paper round since I was twelve and about a week after I turned sixteen, I talked myself into a job at a supermarket, managed to get my own tiny flat… then moved on to a bookstore… saved every penny I had, got a few promotions and when I was twenty-seven, I managed to move away, into this little village, where I still am.” He lifted his chin unconsciously. “I think I’ve done pretty damn well.”

“Definitely,” Jimmy agreed, smiling at him. “God, your parents were dicks.”

Thomas wasn’t keen to dwell on thoughts of them, so he asked: “How were your parents? Did they know?”

Jimmy laughed. “I think they knew before  _ I _ did. I didn’t come out ‘til I was twenty-one ‘cause I was so nervous about it. I didn’t know straight away anyway. Got myself all worked up about it, sat them down after dinner one night and did the whole ‘mom, dad, I’m gay.’ Mom gave me this weird little frown and I thought she was gonna be disapproving but she just went ‘we know, dear.’ All confused. And I went ‘how?’ and she says ‘haven’t you told us before?’ I mean, really, I woulda remembered something like that. She looked at dad like she wasn’t sure what to say next and dad went ‘son, so long as they treat you right, your mom and I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about who you’re dating.’”

Thomas was surprised to realise that he was blinking back tears. He was profoundly glad that Jimmy had met with a loving reaction, but it stabbed at his heart to have it brought home what he had missed out on. But he couldn’t be  _ too _ jealous of Jimmy’s parents; they were dead, after all. “I’m glad,” he said, a little hoarsely.

“I don’t… I don’t talk about them as much as I’d like to,” Jimmy said after a moment, looking out of the front window of the restaurant rather than meet Thomas’s gaze. “Even though I hardly ever want to. Does that make sense?”

Thomas nodded silently. “Jimmy… I’m booked on an Alcatraz tour tomorrow, but can I take you for dinner afterwards? It’s… It’s my last full day here.”

“Tomorrow?” Jimmy repeated, considering Thomas thoughtfully. “That’s Valentine’s day.”

“Yes, it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats to pretty much everyone for working it out! Perhaps I should have left you less clues :P Although I'm a little concerned that the condoms made you suspicious - safe sex, y'all??! They're strangers hooking up, they should be using condoms! The condoms weren't even a clue!
> 
> My approach to this stuff is I'm willing to write unsafe sex in canon-era because they didn't have the same awareness of the risks then, but my modern-era sex will always be safe sex (unless for some reason I'm looking at the consequences of unsafe sex or something, I guess).
> 
> (PS feel free to gloat if you got it right ;) )


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmkay I've learned a lot about writing mysteries from this fic and a lot of that's down to you folks leaving me comments, so thank you so much for engaging with this fic and with me. A couple things:  
> 1) Phyllis is a trans woman, hence her going to the LGBT+ group that Thomas went to. It wasn't really relevant to the fic but I thought I'd mention it.  
> 2) It might be uncommon but it's not excessive to wear a glove for anal stimulation using fingers. Also it was more for Jimmy's protection than Thomas's.  
> 3) Jimmy was being genuine when he said he picked the extra-thick condom to make things last longer, but I can see that it was a bad idea for me to have that particular detail in this particular fic/storyline.  
> 4) I didn't actually realise/decide Jimmy was HIV positive until about chapter 4 or 5. Happily, I'd already written a couple of details that fitted in nicely just by coincidence.  
> Without further ado - onwards! I hope you enjoy the epilogue!

“Thomas Barrow I will fucking kill you!” Jimmy's voice gasped its way up the hill.

Thomas’s laughter gambolled down in response. “Does this mean you need me to wait for you, Mr Gym-Three-Times-A-Week?”

“ _ Fuck  _ off, I was taking a  _ picture _ .”

Thomas slowed down without turning, smiling into the evening sun as he heard Lady, his Golden Retriever, barking around Jimmy's legs. “Like I said, perfectly happy to wait for you if you  _ can't keep up _ ,” he called back in a singsong voice.

“ _ Death and taxes! _ ” Jimmy thundered at him as though it was the most ancient of deadly curses. Thomas wasn't sure why the phrase had entered Jimmy's lexicon but it seemed to be one of his new favourite insults.

Chuckling, Thomas relented and stopped walking, managing to give Lady a quick scratch before she zoomed off again, bounding through the brown heather - it was too early for it to flower - and scrubby grass. She had been wary of Jimmy when he had first arrived in Yorkshire nine days ago, but with he and Thomas kissing each other every five minutes she soon accepted that he was One Of The Pack. Thomas thought she might even miss him when he went back to San Francisco next week.

He certainly knew he would.

Jimmy caught up with him and stuck his tongue out. “Git.” He pulled out his phone and manhandled Thomas into position for a picture of the two of them. Each put an arm around the other, the phone camera looking down over their shoulders towards the village in the valley. “Ready?” he asked softly, stroking Thomas's hip in the way that was guaranteed to get him to smile.

Not that Thomas needed any help in that department. He was ridiculously, overwhelmingly happy. The only fly in the ointment was knowing that this was a limited-time visit - that Jimmy would go home in a few days and they'd be back to long-distance. He beamed at the camera and Jimmy took a few snaps, pressing the sides of their heads together in one, kissing Thomas’s cheek in another.

Releasing Thomas, Jimmy said: “Now  _ wait _ for me, I wanna take one of the church.”

“Sure, sure, I'll wait…” Thomas said innocently. He waited until Jimmy was focused on the screen, and next second he was spinning on his heel and making a break for it up the hill. The second after  _ that _ , he was crashing down against the grass with something wrapped around his calves.

Jimmy had rugby-tackled him to the ground. His arms were wrapped around Thomas's shins and he was glaring up at Thomas. He started tickling Thomas’s feet.

Thomas immediately jerked - he  _ hated _ his feet being touched - but Jimmy tightened his grip around his shins and kept on.

“You said you'd  _ wait _ ,” he said accusingly, under the sound of Lady's barking getting louder and closer. She set upon Thomas and attacked his face with enthusiastic licks until Thomas was weak with laughter.

“I surrender!” he managed to say, and Jimmy released him. When he was able to turn onto his side and look round, he saw that Jimmy was grinning. Lady snuffled into Thomas's face before losing interest.

As he crawled up next to Thomas with his phone still clutched in his hand, Jimmy said: “Just remember -” and he dipped his mouth close to Thomas's ear to whisper: “Bad boys don't get blow jobs.” He kissed Thomas deeply, as though to remind him just how good he was with his mouth.

Jimmy left Thomas sprawled on the ground and stood, lifting his phone for another attempt at taking a photograph. For a few seconds, Thomas just watched him, filing away the view of him here, in Thomas's own town, for future comfort. He was beautiful against the fading sky.

“Used to go walking with my dad sometimes,” Jimmy said.

Thomas lay flat on the grass and tipped his head back to look up at the whispy clouds floating on the watery sky. “I bet you always introduced your boyfriends to your parents,” Thomas said, smiling. “And you always pretended it didn’t  _ really _ matter what they thought, but if they hadn’t liked anyone you’d have dumped them in a heartbeat.” He craned his neck to see Jimmy laughing softly.

“Sometimes it’s like you grew up down the street,” Jimmy said, slipping his phone back into his pocket and remaining where he was. “The way you know me. It’s like you’ve always been there.”

Thomas got to his feet and slipped his arms around Jimmy's shoulders from behind. He rubbed his stubbled jaw lightly over Jimmy's cheek, fitting his own cheekbone perfectly against Jimmy's temple. In turn, Jimmy put his hands back and held Thomas's thighs.

“Better than coming with me on Skype, then?”

“Definitely,” Jimmy said. “The 4G here is rubbish.”

“It's 3G around here,” Thomas corrected him. “If you're lucky.”

“Exactly. The video’s always so pixelated, I can hardly tell if you’re in a field or a forest.”

They looked down at the village together, nestled in the valley at the bottom of the hill they had climbed.

“Look how far we've come,” Thomas said quietly.

“If you get all corny and metaphorical on me, I'm goin’ home, babe,” Jimmy said.

Thomas huffed a laugh. “I meant literally, actually.” He closed his eyes to the familiar splendour before him and breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of Jimmy's shampoo and bodywash and deodorant. He had so missed being able to hold Jimmy; and they had become so much closer over time that the torture had only grown. But now, here he was, his smell and his weight and the way he sang softly in the car. For a few more days, at least.

The late sun warmed Thomas’s back gently.

“The Dog and Duck's advertising for bar staff,” Jimmy said after a while.

“Mm. Charlie's off to university so they need a replacement.”

“I was thinking I might apply.”

Thomas's eyes opened automatically, though they didn't register anything. Did that mean what he thought it meant? He wondered if Jimmy could feel the way his heart was suddenly pounding against his back. “Long commute from San Francisco,” he said evenly.

“Not far from here, though. I’ve been lookin’ at rentals.”

Pulling away, Thomas turned them to face each other, looking into Jimmy’s deep blue eyes. “You’re serious about this.” He was stuck in an agony of uncertainty, right on the edge of perfect happiness but too scared to believe in it.

“I am,” Jimmy said. “I don’t want to be across an ocean from you, Thomas.”

To his own irritation, Thomas’s oft-ignored sensible side kicked in. “Don’t move country just for me. Move because… because all things considered, you think you can have a better life here. Or because you want to explore…” He trailed off as Jimmy laid a hand on his cheek and stroked his skin.

“You are silly,” Jimmy said tenderly. “Ever since I met you, you’ve known I didn’t want to stay in San Fran forever. I want to find somewhere new. Somewhere to belong. And yeah, I am moving here for you, babe, and you’re gonna have to deal with that, but I’m also moving for me. I like it here. I want to stay.”

“Well, then…” Thomas grinned. “I guess you’ve got some packing to do.”

Behind them, the sun lowered gradually, ready to begin its journey across the Atlantic to warm an American morning; where, soon, Jimmy would follow.

But just like the daylight, it would not be long before Jimmy returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I do hope you've enjoyed, and I would love some kind concrit on the ending! (Or any comment on the ending, really :) ) I struggle with writing endings that people find satisfying so I'd be very grateful if you let me know your thoughts!


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